


Lakeville, City of Lakes

by skimmingthesurface, SylviaW1991



Series: Mystery Best Friends [3]
Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Family Bonding, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Series, awkward teen romance, pinescone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-03-30 05:06:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 154,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3923998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skimmingthesurface/pseuds/skimmingthesurface, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylviaW1991/pseuds/SylviaW1991
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I have a surprise for you!”<br/>“Those words never end well for me.” </p><p>--</p><p>Nightmares are keeping Dipper from sleeping. In an effort to help him recover from what happened to him in the hideaway of the Society of the Blind Eye, Mabel puts a plan into motion that involves a bit of a change in scenery from their usual summers spent in Gravity Falls. A slow, normal summer spent in Lakeville, city of lakes, full of dates, frog hunts, and fun with friends might be just the thing to take Dipper's mind off it. Not to mention give him a few extra weeks with his boyfriend and get the comfort he needs in the aftermath of Gideon's torture.  As they get used to this new relationship, it's ups and downs, Wirt and Dipper also get to begin to piece together the puzzles that make up each other and build upon the foundation they set up in Gravity Falls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Her brother wasn’t fine. Mabel sighed, watching him carefully over the top of her knitting. He wasn’t watching TV, though he’d been the one to initially choose the channel, his gaze on his phone as if that would inspire a faster response from the person on the other end. But he told Wirt he’d be fine, had bundled him in a hug and promised.

Had they seen worse as he’d reassured him? Yes, probably.

Did that make Dipper feel better about the secrets he was keeping? Definitely not.

He’d seen more in the Blind Eye Society’s former meeting grounds than he was admitting to, Mabel just knew it, but he wouldn’t tell her what it was. She knew he would tell Wirt, though, if he’d had more time to stay. There was a source of comfort there that couldn’t be achieved from a sibling, even a twin, because Dipper had fallen completely and hopelessly in love with Wirt after only a week.

Mabel pulled out her own phone, setting aside her knitting to scroll through her contacts. They needed more time together, and, while not as adept at making plans as her brother, she had one to help with just that.

She sent one to Pacifica first as there was no need in bothering anyone else until they had transportation locked in, and nearly squealed when a “ _heck yes. Sounds stupid romantic._ ” was the reply. She didn’t want to alert her brother too early, of course.

She found the name of Wirt’s mother, glancing over at her brother when he gasped quietly, and smiled as he began to text back. She was tired of seeing him sad and distressed, so sent a text of her own.

_Hi, this is Mabel! I’m not sure if you kept my number in your phone. I was wondering if I could call and talk to you? I kind of have a little-big favor to ask. I don’t know how Wirt’s doing, but Dipper’s been really sad and I want to help him out._

 

\----

 

Wirt hadn’t slept through the night once since they’d gotten back. Since it was July, no one could really call him out on it, but it was concerning for the Palmer-Whelan family, to say the least. Greg had taken to camping out in his room after the first night, having had to shake his brother awake so he’d stop making such broken sounds. It helped a little, having Greg there, someone who had been there and seen what had happened - just like with The Unknown. But unlike that time, where knowing that Greg was safe was the only way to soothe the whirlwind of what-ifs, he couldn’t know that the person starring in his newest twist in reality was. He couldn’t know that Dipper was safe when he was entire continent away, phone calls and texting aside.

While their parents didn’t know the details of what they’d gone through, they had figured out that something had happened. Of course, their rationale led them to believe it wasn’t exactly something dangerous that had befallen them, but rather just two teens who were facing being in love for the first time and having to do it without the other there.

Wirt had not explicitly told his mom that, but she’d gleaned enough to make both of them comfortable with the idea that yes, Wirt had a boyfriend and he wasn’t exactly sure what that made him. If she attributed the nightmares to his insecurities and self-conscious fears about people’s perception of him and his dislike of labels and just plain _missing_ Dipper like nobody’s business, well, he wasn’t going to correct her on that. Not if that meant relaying that they’d not only gone to the afterlife - where they met the twins in the first place - but also had been chased on multiple occasions by a giant monster and targeted by wanted criminals and that his boyfriend had been kidnapped in place of his little brother to keep him safe and beaten senseless.

And then there was that. Boyfriend. It hadn’t even taken a week and he was already thinking of Dipper as his boyfriend. And he couldn’t even be upset about it being one of the biggest labels that people seemed to care about.

So while he spent the time after their trip to the west coast glued to his phone like he’d never been before and pacing his bedroom late at night whispering poetry to keep himself from falling asleep, his mom and step-dad discussed Mabel Pines’s plan and found no reason as to why it shouldn’t happen.

 

\----

 

She danced when they called her back. She sounded perfectly reasonable and only a little overjoyed, but she was dancing with all the enthusiasm in the world when they said, “Yes, we’d love to have you both stay.”

It still wasn’t forever, which is what she honestly would’ve loved the most, but it was the rest of the summer. It was an entire month for her brother to work out all the things troubling him because there were so many. With the phone hung up, after assurances that, yes, they would make this a surprise for Wirt, Mabel skipped over to him. She folded her arms across her chest and then leaned against his back.

She was quiet for a moment, listening to him explain how even something as simple as a rock could hold wonders, and smiled as his camera followed a butterfly that grew and shrank depending on the colored light it flew through. She stayed dropped over him, fingers tapping a rhythm on the top of his hat, until he spoke to her rather than the audience who would watch later. Much, much, much later because Dipper had been going on a bit of a rampage with his Guide to the Unexplained videos.

It seemed like every day they were combing the woods, seeking mysteries. Normally, it was a once a week or so ish sort of thing, but since Wirt had left, Dipper had been consumed by the need to roam. He couldn’t seem to stay in one place long enough to do anything, and she knew his sleep was suffering. The bags that were always there beneath his eyes had deepened.

He yawned, rubbing a hand over his face as his commentary ended. “What is it, Mabel?”

“I have a surprise for you!”

“Those words never end well for me.” When his phone jingled, he grabbed it immediately.

“Are you using complete sentences?” Mabel squinted at the text her brother was sending, then gasped. “And punctuation?!”

“Shut up. Stop reading over my shoulder.”

“Aw,” she cooed, “my little bro-bro texting like a grown-up!”

“Shut up,” he repeated. “It’s just for Wirt.”

She giggled, waiting for him to put his phone away again. “Sooo about the surprise,” she started, grinning when his eyes rolled. “It’s also for Wirt, but you have to know now since we’ve got a lot of stuff to do before we go.”

“Go where? What are you-” It clicked, his logical mind leaping to the logical place, and his heart tightened in his chest. “Mabel, we can’t afford that. I mean- I mean, we _can_ , but it’s not budgeted and... and...”

“And we have a very rich friend with a private jet who owes us a favor, and has already agreed.”

His heart flipped. “Where are we supposed to stay?”

“Wirt and Greg have two very wonderful parents who are going to tolerate us for a whole entire month.”

“But that’s-”

“Til the end of the summer.”

“Mom and dad-”

“Also said yes.”

“But Grunkle Stan-”

“Rolled his eyes a lot, but he agreed.”

Dipper’s legs gave way and he sank to the ground, sitting in the grass. “Wait.”

“There’s no time for that!” Mabel laughed, sitting beside him. “We’re leaving tomorrow. They just called me - Wirt and Greg’s parents, I mean - and we’re leaving tomorrow. They’ll pick us up at the airport, and we’ll stay the whole month.”

He looked as though he would cry, so she laid her hand on his arm. “Dipper?”

“Mabel, this is... I mean... Grunkle Stan’s going to take care of the town? It’s tourist season.”

Even Grunkle Stan knew that Dipper wasn’t himself, only having given her a cursory protest before saying it was alright. But she didn’t want to tell her twin that. “Dipper, it’s already settled. Everything’s been taken care of. Grunkle Ford’s coming home next week even, so Grunkle Stan can still take care of the Shack.” She laid a hand on his arm. “You’ll see Wirt tomorrow.”

His eyes rounded, hand immediately going for his phone went it jingled, and stared at the message. He wanted to tell him, aching to share the best news in the entire freaking world. “Does Greg know?”

“Nope! It’s a surprise for everyone! Except you since you still have to pack and, well, it’s you and me who are doing the traveling.”

He bit his lip and, though his hands were shaking, his response gave nothing away. “Thanks, Mabel,” he said quietly and then started to laugh. It was a soft sound that first that slowly grew in volume and in joy, and Mabel beamed as his head fell back with delight. It had been two, long weeks since she’d last heard him laugh so easily.

“I can’t even- I mean- Tomorrow! Oh my god, I’ll see him tomorrow!” He grinned at her. “This is the best news ever!”

 

\----

 

“Wirt, I’m not going to tell you again!”

Sighing heavily, Wirt hesitated by the front door, hand on the handle as his mom’s voice clucked at him from the kitchen. “Mom, Trevor and Sara are waiting for me, I’ll clean my room when I get back.”

He turned around when he heard her approach, her hands on her hips in a stance that Greg mimicked more often than not as she raised her eyebrow at him. “I’ve been asking you all week to clean up your room,” she reminded him, even though it had only been the past two days really. “You’re not putting it off another minute. You can go to the mall with your friends after you clean.”

While it wasn’t the first time she’d been on him to pick up his room, and to be honest it did get pretty messy pretty quickly. But it wasn’t like it was any worse than normal. It started the way it always had. First with a mug of tea, then two, then ten, then scrapped poems overflowing from the wastebasket, and one or two sweaters didn’t quite make it to the dresser and then they just started multiplying until his socks and pants were all over the floor and he couldn’t find a pair of matching shoes to save his life.

Okay, so maybe he did need to clean.

“Can it really not wait until I get back?” he asked, though he wasn’t really sure why he was pushing for it.

He didn’t even want to go out, but Dipper hadn’t answered his last two texts and he didn’t want to bother him anymore than he had already - _maybe he’s tired of me_. The thought prodded and prodded him until he gave in and called Sara to distract himself and found out she was just about to call him to see if he wanted to hang out with her, Trevor, and Isabelle at the mall the next town over.

His mom reached for something sitting on the armchair in the living room and produced a black garbage bag seemingly out of thin air. “No it really cannot.”

He sighed, but took the bag and shuffled back down the hall. It wouldn’t actually take him that long, but it was the principle of the matter. It was his space and there was a certain creative energy to the mild disheveled hoard of books and teacups and clothes. Though, standing in his doorway trying to form a plan of action, his room had bypassed mild a very long time ago.

He tossed the bag aside for the moment, taking to picking up his clothes for the laundry basket in his closet. Flummoxed by the amount of Greg’s toys he found hiding underneath sweaters and books, he enlisted in his little brother’s assistance as well.

“But Mom’s already got me cleaning my room, too,” Greg protested.

“Tough luck. Unless you want me putting Angry Dan, Lazy Steve, and the Electric Light Orchestra Brigade in the trash bag, take them to your room.” Wirt tossed one of the mismatched figurines at him.

Greg caught it, but stuck his tongue out at him. Wirt returned the favor.

Not fifteen minutes later, the room was pretty much spotless. It still looked lived in, Wirt wouldn’t be able to stand it if it was sterile - not that the dated orange carpet and yellow walls with the one random wall of wood panelling could ever hope to look sterile - but it was definitely better than it had been. His mom walked by, helping Greg with his room, when she paused to look in, eyebrows high on her forehead.

“How is it that you can do all this in ten minutes, but you put up a fuss about it every time?” she asked him.

He shrugged. “Mm-mm-mm.”

While waiting for her and Greg to finish so she could drive him to the mall, he checked his phone for any new texts from Dipper, even though it had been in his pocket the entire time he’d been cleaning and would’ve felt it. Still nothing. He pursed his lips, trying not to feel sad about it because he couldn’t expect to monopolize Dipper’s time when he had things to do at the Mystery Shack or videos to edit or a town to save…

He just hoped he was still doing okay.

“I know staring at your phone may make you _think_ that you feel better, kiddo, but that’s really not the case, trust me.” Jonathan gave him a pat on the shoulder when he joined him by the front door.

Wirt sighed, pocketing his phone. “I know. It’s stupid to think that if I’m holding it and thinking about him that he’ll know I want to talk to him. Plus he already talks to me a ton. I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever texted this much in my entire life.”

His step-dad chuckled. “I don’t think you have either. But it’s not stupid, Wirt. I think he knows you want to talk to him, and I bet by the time you’re done hanging out at the mall, he’ll be ready to. It’s good that you’re going out to get your mind off things for a while.”

“I guess.” He smiled weakly at the man before his World War I nurse’s cape was thrown over his head. “Greg.”

“Aw beans, how’d you know it was me?”

Wirt lifted it up to raise an eyebrow, then used it to wrap Greg up with and lifted him off the ground. “Because I have eyes in the back of my head! Didn’t you know that?”

“No you don’t!” Greg laughed, reduced to a squirming bundle of red and blue fabric. “And even if you did, they’d be covered by your bird hair and you wouldn’t be able to see anything anyway!”

“Then I have mind-reading powers. I can read minds,” he decided before setting him back down and taking the cape back. “Why do you have this?”

“I think it’s from when we were playing that we were visiting Uncle Endicott’s and then had to go on that journey across the ice canyon and fairy lake to find the best flower to make the best tea in the world that could also cure the ghost lady’s fatal disease,” Greg explained.

“Oh.” Wirt did vaguely recall leaving his cape in his brother’s room after that escapade. “Okay. Thanks for giving it back.”

“You should wear it when you go see Sara!” Greg declared, like it was the best idea ever.

Wirt folded it up. “It’s too hot to wear this out and about, Greg.”

“That doesn’t stop you from wearing sweaters,” he pointed out.

“That’s different.”

“How?” Greg called after him as he went to put the cape away in his room. “Dad, how is it different?”

“It’s not, but we’ll just let him think that it is,” Jonathan assured him.

Wirt rolled his eyes. “I heard that!”

It was a surprise that the whole Palmer-Whelan clan got in the car to take Wirt to the next town over to meet up with his friends at the mall. At least Wirt was surprised. “There are some errands we need to run and figured we might as well while you’re out,” his mom replied.

He accepted it easily enough, though that it strange that their parents didn’t take him up on his offer to let Greg tag along and hang out at the mall with him. His little brother had looked so excited, too, probably at the prospect of getting one of the giant pretzels from the food court or some soft serve ice cream. Apparently Greg was needed for these errands, so the seven-year-old sulked while they pulled into the parking lot of the mall in Taunton.

“Call us when you’re ready to be picked up,” his mom requested as he got out.

“Okay. I might get a ride back with Sara, though. I mean, in case you guys finish doing whatever it is you’re doing and want to head home. It seems kind of silly to have to come back.” He shrugged.

“You know we don’t mind. But if you do get a ride, then let us know.”

“Sure. Bye.”

He found Trevor before he found Sara and Isabelle, though they weren’t too far. Isabelle was near the front of an accessory shop, holding up what looked to be two pairs of earrings in front of a “Buy One, Get One Half Off” display. Sara stood beside her inside, offering her moral support, but caught Wirt’s eye over the top of the other girl’s head and gave him a shrug and a sheepish smile like, ‘what can you do?’ He smiled back a little, joining Trevor just outside the store.

“How long do you think she’s been looking at that display?” he asked Wirt.

Wirt hummed, scuffing the toe of his sneaker on the tile floor as he glanced inside the shop. “I dunno. Five minutes?”

“Close. Ten. It’s literally been ten minutes. All the jewelery on that stand is of different pieces of food. There’s watermelons and cookies and eggplants, but it’s like… one, why would you even want eggplant earrings, and two, how is it that hard to decide? Just pick your favorite food and be done with it, right?”

“I have a lot of different favorite foods, Trevor, okay?” Isabelle called out to them, apparently tuned into his words despite the look of concentration on her face as she examined the strawberry earrings and the green peppers. “What do you think, Sara?”

“I dunno, I’m kinda feeling the bell peppers.” She shrugged.

“It’s buy one get one half off, Isabelle,” Trevor sighed. “Why haven’t you just bought both already?”

“I’m not getting two pairs of earrings, Trevor. I’m going to get a bracelet or ring to match whichever one I pick,” she replied, squinting at the display before she gasped. “Oh my gosh, I didn’t even see the cornbread ones. Okay, now I’m officially torn. Wirt, help me out.”

Trevor groaned as Wirt abandoned him to walk up to the stand the girls stood in front of to get a better look. Sara took it as an opportunity to get out of the store while she could, giving Wirt a squeeze to his shoulder on her way out. Isabelle held up the choices to him.

“I think I agree with Sara. I like the bell peppers. Plus they have the best bracelet.” He pointed to the one on the rack.

“They do,” she agreed. “And everyone does strawberries.”

He hummed and nodded. “And people might not realize that’s cornbread. From far away it just looks like yellow cubes.”

Isabelle placed her hand on Wirt’s arm. “Thank you for being a kind and decent human being, Wirt. Take some notes, Trevor.”

“And steal all the glory from Wirt? What kind of friend do you think I am?” Trevor scoffed while Sara chuckled. “Wirt, you can go right ahead and take my place as Isabelle’s shopping companion. I will not protest.”

 

\----

 

“We don’t even know what their car looks like,” Dipper realized, he and Mabel both leaning forward to watch every vehicle pass by.

“Good thing they know what we look like, huh?”

He didn’t reply but for an absent hum, straightening to adjust the strap of his carry-on. His suitcase handle was grasped firmly, and he still couldn’t believe this was happening. He still couldn’t believe that they were in Massachusetts. He still couldn’t believe that he was going to see Wirt when they’d both thought they would have to wait a year.

Absence may have made the heart grow fonder, but Dipper was more than ready to pour some of that fondness right back where it belonged.

Without warning, his sister began to squeal. Abandoned, her suitcase fell with a thumping clatter, and he blinked at it, then at her as she caught and spun Greg before the kid had even been able to fully get out of his seat.

“Mabel! Mabel, Mabel, Dipper, Mabel!” Greg’s arms flew around her neck, nothing short of a crowbar capable of removing him from her. “Dipper! Mabel!”

“Greg!” Mabel echoed. “Greg, Greg, Greg!” She rubbed his back. “Oh, I missed you!”

Dipper swallowed when Jonathan left the car, popping the trunk for their suitcases. There was someone missing, his hand immediately going for his phone. The only reason he’d held off on texting him the moment the plane had landed was that he’d been certain that he would be there soon. But all he wanted to say was “I’m here! I’m here, where are you?”

“Uh...” He pushed his suitcase in, following it with his sister’s because he wasn’t about to try and split her and Greg apart. “So where’s Wirt?” he asked, heart twisting in his chest.

“Well, he was starting to get fidgety and nervous back home, so when his friends invited him to hang out with them at the mall, he thought it might help distract him from staring at his phone all afternoon.” Jonathan grinned at him, patting him on the shoulder after helping him with Mabel’s suitcase. “And since we didn’t want to spoil the surprise, well, we had to let him go, but we’ll take you and Mabel there right after this so you can see him. It’s probably better this way. He would’ve gotten suspicious and probably figure the whole thing out as soon as he realized we were heading for Boston.”

If Wirt had been anything like Dipper had been on the plane - constantly checking a phone he knew wouldn’t have a fresh text - then he could sympathize. It still didn’t negate the fact that he wanted to see him, and immediately. “Okay. Are you sure we shouldn’t, like, go to your house and take care of our stuff?”

“The mall is on the way,” he explained, closing the trunk. “We’ll take your things back to the house while you have some fun and catch up.”

“Okay.” He started to reach for his phone again, but hesitated. He knew, just knew, that he would tell Wirt everything if he texted him back now. After a moment, his hands dipped into his pockets. “Thanks for letting us stay, by the way. It’s, uh, really cool of you.”

“It’s our pleasure, Dipper. You have the whole summer ahead of you and when your sister pitched her idea, well, it didn’t seem right not to honestly consider it. Especially given the impact the two of you have clearly made on the boys.” He nodded towards Greg and Mabel, then called to his son. “Greg, why don’t you and Jason sit in the back so Dipper and Mabel can have the middle?”

“Okay, Dad!” Greg chirped from where he was squishing his cheek to Mabel’s. “Are we gonna go see Wirt now? We have to show him!”

“Yeah, we’re going to see Wirt now,” Jonathan chuckled, then went around to the passenger side of the car.

Mabel passed Greg over to Dipper, who was perfectly alright with giving him a squeeze, so she could climb in. “How you doing, Greg?”

“Amazing now that you’re here!” he exclaimed, making sure Dipper got an extra, super, wonderful hug, too. “Wirt’s gonna be so happy!”

“Is that a rock fact? One of the true ones?”

“Yeah!” Greg leaned back to grin at him. “Wirt gets all the true ones, but that’s our secret, so you can’t tell anyone, okay? Except Mabel. She knows so that’s okay.”

“You got it.” Dipper gave him a grin and Jason Funderburker a pat before setting him down, letting Greg scramble into the back row before following and closing the door after him.

He took out his phone, opening his text app and holding his thumbs above the keyboard that popped up. Wirt’s last two texts, both having blipped onto his phone the moment the plane had landed, had him swallowing. He wanted to reply, to reassure him, to tell him that they were in freaking Massachusetts and minutes away from being together again.

But he also wanted to see his face when they showed. He wanted to surprise him. He closed his eyes, the bill of his hat shading his face, and returned the phone to his pocket. Just a few more minutes.

 

\----

 

After Isabelle purchased her new green bell pepper accessories, and immediately put them on, the four teens wandered through the mall for more window shopping. They mostly chatted, Isabelle and Trevor eager to hear more about Wirt’s vacation to California and Oregon. He was able to tide them over with tales of Disneyland and showing off pictures of Monterey Bay that he’d taken on his phone - pointedly ignoring the fact that there were no new messages. Then they launched into describing what they had done so far, removing the burden of interesting storyteller from Wirt’s shoulders that he was glad to give up.

Isabelle had gone to New York for a week for her cousin’s wedding and Trevor had gone camping with his parents and sisters. Wirt felt proud of the fact that he was able to chime in a little during Trevor’s story of learning how to make a campfire, recalling the way he’d watched Dipper and Mabel create one back in The Unknown and Dipper just a few weeks before in the middle of the night. Of course, he left out that detail, but it was nice to be able to join in, surprising both Trevor and Isabelle with the fact that he knew how to camp.

Well, sort of how to camp.

“Of course he does, guys,” Sara vouched for him. “Wirt’s a poetic guy. He’s one with nature.”

“I’m- I’m not really,” he laughed.

“You know, you do strike me as the kinda guy that would go on random nature walks that would last hours or something,” Trevor added. “Just taking in the trees.”

He’d sort of had enough of random nature walks to last him quite a while. Unless he had a map and a guide, and no strange monsters out to steal his soul or eat him. Walking around the mall was perilous enough as it was, trying to avoid strollers and power-walkers and small children like it was the new, hip thing to do.

They stopped at a few more stores. While Wirt preferred to do his shopping at the thrift stores in town, when they stopped inside a home goods outlet, his attention had been captured by their selection of clocks. He didn’t really know why he’d taken to collecting clocks, but it was something he enjoyed. It didn’t really need a reason the way architecture and clarinet did, more like poetry in that was something that naturally captivated him. So when he gravitated towards two in particular, he didn’t really question it.

One was a rustic, cuckoo clock, more his style, with trees carved into it. Pine trees, to be specific. The pendulums hanging from the bottom of it were even shaped like the conifers. The second one was more modern, with minimalistic hands on the clock’s smooth face where various constellations were etched. The big dipper was the first one he noticed.

Sara bumped his shoulder lightly when she found him absorbed in them, gently nudging him out of his reverie. “That one would go nicely with your other clocks,” she told him, pointing to the pine tree one.

“Yeah,” he agreed, flushing a little when his gaze wandered back to the constellation one.

She tilted her head, noting his interest. “Do you like that one more?”

“Not- not necessarily.” He shrugged a little, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I just… there’s something about it and I kinda like it?”

She smiled. “It’s okay if you like it, Wirt. You yourself always say how you don’t like to box yourself in or conform to a mold. Who cares if it’s a little different than what you usually go for? You should get it.”

“I don’t think I should.” Even if the odds of Dipper seeing his room any time soon were exceptionally low, the idea of having a clock with his birthmark on it - the one that no one knew about because he was one of three people that he trusted with it - seemed like a violation of Dipper’s trust.

The pine tree clock made more sense to get, and it still made his heart flutter and he could so easily recall the comfortable, companionable way Dipper would loop his arm around his waist to keep him at his side when he looked at it.

But when he saw the constellation clock, he saw that night in an oasis surrounded by nymphs and the star laden sky and felt the first brush of Dipper’s lips against his and the way his soul seemed to quake with understanding and enlightenment.

He didn’t buy either, shuffling out of the store with cheeks flushed in embarrassment now rather than pleasant memory. Stupid clocks. Stupid distance. He didn’t care if it was an arm slung across his waist or his fingers cupping his chin, he just wanted Dipper to somehow materialize and grab him and refuse to let him go.

_“Who cares if we’re in public, man! I’ve already waited two whole weeks, don’t make me wait any more.”_

Wirt’s chin quivered and he mashed his lips together tightly so the color drained from them. Going to the mall was supposed to take his mind off missing him. Now all he could picture was Dipper sidling up to him, Mabel and Greg not far behind, as he grabbed his hand to drag him off onto some new adventure, babbling excitedly about his newest discovery.

They could do it, the long distance thing, and they would do it. It was just sort of terrible that they had to while they were still discovering these new feelings. Discovering each other. What made them tick.

It was terrible that he couldn’t take care of Dipper in the aftermath of that wretched Gideon’s plot. Wirt’s blood boiled still at the thought that the monster had almost taken both his little brother and his- his guy that he liked a whole lot away from him - from the world - in one day.

“Come on, Wirt.” Having become lost in his thoughts once again, he blinked when Sara took his wrist as Isabelle and Trevor ducked into a video game store. “Let’s go grab a table at the food court and sit for a while.”

It was very easy to get whisked along in the emotions and plans of a group even as small as the one they had today. When it was their usual band of seven, plus or minus Greg, Wirt would often have to move to the outskirts of the group, clinging to the edge and turning introspective. In times like that, Sara would often sit with him and engage him in some one-on-one conversation to take his mind off whatever plagued him into silence and freed him from the feeling of being something for everyone. Whether it be a buddy for Trevor to joke around with or an opinion for Isabelle to bounce off of. It was refreshing to see that Sara could pick up on that, the same way that Greg could, and Dipper and Mabel as well.

Dipper. Still his thoughts kept cycling back to him. This was getting a bit ridiculous.

Even as he thought that, he couldn’t help looking at his phone once he and Sara chose a table that wasn’t in too congested of an area. Still no new messages. While he attempted to maintain a mask of nonchalance as he put it away, Sara grinned knowingly at him and he cursed his stupid heart being stuck on his stupid sleeve.

“Waiting for anything in particular?” she asked him.

“Not- not really.” He cleared his throat, plucking a napkin from the dispenser sitting on their table and proceeded to tear it into little bits. “Just checking. You know.”

“You’ve been checking your phone a lot lately,” she hummed. “More than usual, anyway.”

He shrugged, rolling a scrap of napkin into a ball between his thumb and index finger. “I’ll hold the table if you want to go get something,” he offered, changing the subject.

She knew what he was doing, but let it slide. “I’m good. I’ll wait until Trevor and Isabelle catch up and then we can go together. What are you in the mood for?”

“I think I just want a drink? I’m really thirsty. Why does shopping always make people thirsty? Or is that just me?” he asked, relaxing when Sara chuckled.

“Nah, shopping is thirsty work. I feel you.” She leaned her elbows on the table. “I’m thinking lemonade.”

“Same. But are you sure you don’t want like a slice of pizza or anything?”

She shrugged. “Mm-mm-mm. Maybe. I’ll see how I feel when they get here.”

“If they get here. Trevor might rip Isabelle’s head off if she tries to go into another lotion store.”

“Yeah, if she hasn’t beaten him to death with her purse first for being so sassy. I swear, the boys in our group are literally the sassiest people I’ve ever met. You all just get so uppity,” she laughed.

“No way. I’m not sassy,” Wirt denied.

“You can be,” she debated.

“Nuh-uh.”

Sara leaned in, raising an eyebrow. “You’re totally a secret sass master, Wirt. You can’t hide it.”

“Now you’re starting to sound like Greg,” he pointed out.

“Starting to?” Both their heads turned as Isabelle and Trevor slid into the two open seats, the latter addressing them while the former took to stealing one of Wirt’s paper balls from the pile that had formed. “Dude, where have you been? Your little brother has totally been corrupting Sara. I’m pretty sure he’s recruiting her for his underground society or something.”

“It’s true.” She shrugged, playing it up.

“Is this society dedicated to pestering me at any and all given opportunities?” he asked.

“Wow, Wirt. That’s rude. Though I would expect nothing less from the…”

“Are you really gonna say it?”

“Secret Sass Master.”

“You know, I was gonna offer to buy your lemonade and whatever else you wanted, but I don’t think I’m going to now. I’ve changed my mind.” Wirt crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, then gasped with horror as all his napkin bits were scooped up.

“That’s it, I’m stealing all your balls,” she told him with a straight-face.

Isabelle snorted into her hand while Wirt just continued to gape at her. “Sara, how could you?”

The paper scraps were chucked around a bit, then discarded on their way to grab refreshments. Sticking with just the lemonade for himself, he sipped at it while toying with a new napkin. This time he rolled them into tubes.

“So, Sara, are you going to be on the wrestling team again this year?” Isabelle asked when they were all settled with their food.

She nodded. “Yeah. My mom said that if I stick with it through all of high school, then I can do any other extracurriculars I want and I’m not ready to give up being the mascot yet. Besides, Wirt’s going to be in the marching band this year, so I have to be there at the practices to see that.” She flashed him a grin and he ducked his head. “I can’t wait to hear you play, man. You’re gonna be a great addition.”

“Wait, I thought you were torn between orchestra and marching band still,” Trevor piped up. “Wirt, you gotta do orchestra with me. You can’t leave me alone out there.”

“Trev, you’re percussion, you don’t sit anywhere close to the clarinets,” Isabelle reminded him.

“It’s the principle of the matter. Besides, we’ll get to ride the bus together when we go to concerts and stuff.”

Wirt fidgeted, looking for an opening to respond to Trevor’s initial question when Sara covered it for him. “He decided to do both, so you can relax, Trevor.”

“You’re doing both? You are a braver man than I. And Funderberker, for that matter- hey.” Trevor’s eyes lit up and he smirked. “This isn’t you trying to one-up Funderberker by being in marching band _and_ orchestra, is it?”

Wirt’s face paled considerably. “Wh-what? No! No, that’s not-!”

“Wirt, it’s okay, he’s kidding,” Isabelle soothed him before glaring at Trevor as he giggled to himself. “Quit being a jerk, drumstick.”

“What? It’s funny!” Trevor defended, looking to Sara for help before curling up to sulk a bit. “Well, I thought it was funny.”

“You have a terrible sense of humor,” Sara reminded him, then took a long sip of her lemonade. “Anyway, back to wrestling. Yeah, I’m doing it again, so I won’t be able to do waterpolo with you, Isabelle. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. You’d just help us kick major butt if we had you. You’ve got the best upper-arm strength.” Isabelle mimed punching the air and Wirt found himself nodding in agreement, a small smile pulling at his lips when Sara grinned gratefully.

“You should play tennis,” Trevor piped up.

That had her rolling her eyes. “Like I haven’t heard that before.”

“No, you know what? Baseball. Be on the baseball team with me this year.” He nudged her in the side with his elbow.

Sara fixed him with a deadpan expression. “Trevor, baseball is the same time of year as waterpolo and wrestling.”

Wirt couldn’t help snorting out a laugh, caught up in Trevor’s honestly confused expression as he tried to figure out the school sports’ calendar in his head. He didn’t notice that Isabelle was looking at something until she tapped him on the shoulder. Wirt tilted his head in question and she nodded at the commotion going on behind him.

“I’m pretty sure that’s Greg over there, right?” she asked.

“What?” Wirt spun around in his seat, wide-eyes scanning the lightly crowded mall for his little brother.

He spied him almost immediately, standing on top of a potted plant decorating the mall. How in the heck had he gotten up there? Why was he up there? Where were their parents? Wirt was just about to stand up to go get him down when he noticed that Greg was looking at something in particular. A fight? Oh no, Greg was too young to get caught up in mall brawls. He hadn’t expected this for another five years or so at least!

Wirt definitely stood up at that, and the rest of his table did, too, ready to shield his brother from the harsh realities of malls - this was why he shopped at thrift stores - but then he heard a voice that made his heart literally leap into his throat and his knees go weak.

“Mabel!”

It couldn’t be.


	2. Chapter 2

He was starting to rethink the whole surprising Wirt thing. They’d been together just two weeks before, so this was kind of stupid. But Greg had been thrilled to see them, even now snuggled against Mabel as they spied on Wirt and his friends from a distance.

And Dipper had needed to see him. He'd needed to be back around him, close to him. It was selfish, but a week in Gravity Falls peppered liberally with danger simply hadn't been enough. He shivered a little, tugging down the bill of his cap. It hadn’t been nearly enough, not when their last day had followed the single worst day of his life.

The initial plan had been to go up, listen in to their conversation, and wait for the coolest place to interrupt. Now that they were there at the mall food court, with his boyfriend sitting so quietly in a group of people, he felt completely conflicted. They hadn’t talked about this. They hadn’t talked about Wirt’s friends knowing that he even had a boyfriend. They hadn’t talked about whether or not Wirt was even comfortable coming out in his town.

He didn’t like labels!

“Oh, man,” he whispered.

“What are we waiting for?” Mabel whispered back. “Go get him, bro-bro!”

“Yeah! Let’s get him!” Greg agreed, punching his fist to his palm. “Wait, aren’t we talking about Wirt?”

She giggled quietly, withdrawing her phone and pulling up the camera feature. She switched to video mode and hit record. Dipper looked over the plant they were hiding behind again, heart melting a little when Wirt nodded at something one of the girls said. Oh, man, he was so cute. How was he going to make it through a long distance relationship during school when he barely made it through two weeks?

“What if he isn’t happy to see us? What if he freaks out? What if his friends freak out? Maybe we should head back home. Maybe we should tell Pacifica that the favor didn’t work and she still owes me one. Maybe-” He turned and went pale. “ _Are you recording this right now?!_ ”

“And as Dipper Pines continues his rapid descent into madness, ace reporter Greg Whelan and camera operator Mabel Pines collect the hard-hitting footage in the epic journey to create an award-winning documentary - _My Twin’s a Lovesick Loser_.”

“Mabel! Give me the phone!”

“Nope!”

“Mabel, seriously!”

She held it away when he made a grab for it, grinning. “Uh-uh!”

He picked Greg up, setting him on the pot of the plant they’d been hiding behind and tackled his sister. The two rolled into plain sight, but Dipper’s mind was on getting the embarrassing footage now. “Mabel!” he snapped, and she shrieked with laughter.

Greg jumped up and down on the pot. “Protect the camera, Mabel!”

It was a hard fought battle, complete with tickling on the part of both twins, but Dipper eventually latched onto it and leapt up, holding it high. “Ha!”

Mabel sat up, laughing hard, and looked over her brother’s shoulder to wave at the teen who’d come up to them. “Hiya, Wirt!”

Dipper went pale immediately, spinning on his heel, and found himself face to face with him. Triumph tumbled into embarrassment that slid so quickly into relief at seeing him and then it pinged back to worry over whether or not Wirt would be happy to see him.

He opened his mouth to greet him, to say anything, but all that came out was, “Uh. Oops.”

Just as stunned as he’d been when he’d first heard his voice, Wirt could only stare at him, lips slightly parted in awe. This was real. He didn’t think it could be real, had fantasized about it all afternoon, but he never actually thought it could be real, but it was.

“You’re here,” he finally breathed, when he realized he hadn’t taken a single breath since he’d seen him rolling about on the floor and kind of needed to. “You’re actually here.”

Those words were all it took before his heart jumped into overdrive, practically singing his pulse. His smile stretched wide across his cheeks and he laughed, a loud bubble that startled himself, made him bounce in place at the suddenness of it. He grabbed Dipper’s biceps, fingers trailing down to his forearms, his wrists, then back up to grip his shoulders.

“You’re here?” he repeated, still astonished, but absolutely giddy at the idea alone.

“Yeah, you know...” He shoved the phone in his pocket, ignoring his sister’s giggling protest, and took a step closer. The world had narrowed, vision tunnelling because Wirt looked thrilled to see him. Laughing and bouncing - _bouncing_ \- and latching on.

Dipper let out a small laugh of his own that grew until he was bouncing a little himself. His arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers curling into his sweater, and everything clicked into place. “We’re staying through summer. We’ve got a month. A month!” he repeated, bobbing up to his toes to press their lips together. He’d forgotten where they were. He’d forgotten about any anxieties Wirt may have had over the situation. He only wanted to taste him, drink him in, show that he really was there and that he wasn’t going anywhere.

An eager little noise slipped out of Wirt as he kissed back, but his own babbling forced him to break it, so he instinctively compromised by pulling him in for a fierce hug. “No, you don’t understand, you’re here. I wanted you here and kept thinking about what it would be like if you were all day - like _here_ here at the mall - but I knew you couldn’t be and you weren’t texting me back and I thought you were getting tired of me which is stupid and pathetic, but you’re here. For a month? For a _month_.”

“A month,” Dipper confirmed, clinging to him. “And don't ever think I'm tired of you. That's crazy, man! I just can't text on a plane, and then you were supposed to be at the airport. I couldn't text you when you weren't there because, like, I would've blown it.”

“The airport? The errands. Greg!” Wirt’s gaze snapped to his little brother. “Why didn’t you tell me you guys were going to the _airport_?”

“I didn’t know!” Greg replied, hands on his hips. “Do you really think I would’ve been able to keep it a secret from you if I knew?”

“No, of course not, you’re right. If you’d have known then the world would’ve known,” Wirt mused, then turned back to Dipper. “Why didn’t you tell me? How long have you known you were coming? _You’re_ why my mom kept telling me to clean my room! Oh my gosh, what if I hadn’t cleaned my room? Wait, have you seen our house yet? How long have I been here?” This time when he took out his phone to check it, it was for the time.

“I found out yesterday, okay? This is all Mabel’s idea!”

“Yep! And your parents are really nice, just so you know, and they kept it a secret for me. But I had to tell Dipper, obviously, because how else would I have gotten him on Pacifica’s jet or even gotten him to pack? He’s the worst at packing, and I’m so happy to see you!” Mabel bounced up, throwing her arms around him for her own hug. Dipper barely had enough time to get out of the way.

Taken aback by the sudden hug at first, Wirt steadily relaxed into it and returned it. “I’m so happy to see you, too. I mean, happy doesn’t even begin to describe- I’m-” he paused looking over Mabel’s shoulder at Dipper, smile trembling. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

She laughed, giving his cheek a smacking kiss, and spun away to swing Greg back up for yet another hug. Dipper grinned, easing back into himself as the world righted and he could think again. “Yeah, man, I’m kind of still wrapping my head around it. But we’re here, and we’re sticking around. A week wasn’t enough.”

“It really wasn’t,” he agreed.

For a moment, Wirt could only look at him, completely content to shamelessly admire him with what was probably a stupidly lovestruck expression. Then something seemed to click in his brain and he blinked. The glance he threw over his shoulder was so brief it almost didn’t happen, and then he was grabbing Dipper’s hand and tugging him along.

“I’m sorry. We can go and you can get settled at home and we can catch up and everything. I just need to say goodbye to everyone first because it would be rude if I just left and I can’t do that,” he rambled, making a beeline for the table where his friends were still gathered, glancing their way with interest. “Hey, guys, sorry,” Wirt called out to them as they got closer. “Didn’t mean to just go off like that without any explanation or anything, but I didn’t expect him to be here at all and- oh, this is my boyfriend, Dipper, and his twin sister, Mabel.”

Trevor’s jaw dropped and Isabelle elbowed him in the side without even looking at him, her gaze fixated on Wirt in surprise. Sara, too, appeared caught off-guard, but she recovered the fastest. A smile spread across her face and she stood up to extend her hand to Dipper.

“Hey, nice to meet you,” she greeted. “I’m Sara.”

“Oh, right, yeah. Introductions. Those are a thing.” Wirt smacked his forehead with his free hand, the gestured to the other two teens at the table. “And this is Trevor and Isabelle. Trevor and Isabelle, Dipper and Mabel Pines.”

Sara quirked up an eyebrow as she glanced at Wirt, understanding lighting up her eyes as her smile turned into more of a smirk, while the other two were shaken from the stupor and gave their own greetings. “I’ll go grab some more chairs for you guys,” Trevor offered.

“Yes!” Mabel agreed, all too happy to settle into the one he dragged over, hugging Greg in her lap. She gazed at the girls with interest, smile bright. She had no intention of leaving just yet, the hours in the plane and giddiness over being there too much for her energy levels. “So you’re Wirt’s friends?”

Dipper was still trying to recover as he sank into the chair that was brought for him, but then he was grinning, lacing his fingers with Wirt’s. His boyfriend. They were boyfriends. “Your parents kind of abandoned us here, so we’re cool to stay.”

“Are you sure? I mean, it’s a pretty long flight and there’s the time difference and everything though that wouldn’t really make you feel tired, right, it just makes it feel earlier for you than it actually is and you know, you can interrupt me at any time you like-”

Sara laughed and did it for him, addressing Mabel’s question. “Yeah, we’re Wirt’s friends,” she confirmed while the boy in question flushed darkly and hunched his shoulders. “And you must be who he met up with on his trip to California, right? I had a feeling you weren’t telling me everything, Wirt.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t- I didn’t know how it would go… then.”

“Looks like it went pretty well to me,” Trevor piped up.

Dipper gave Wirt’s hand a squeeze. “All things considered, yeah.”

Wirt squeezed back. Afraid that if he let go even a little, he’d be gone again. “You’re sure you’re feeling up to this? Are you guys hungry at all?”

“Starving!” they chimed in unison, glanced at one another, shrugged, and looked back at Wirt with matching grins.

“What’s good here?” Mabel asked, addressing the table in general.

Everyone had something different to recommend. Sara suggested the sandwiches, while Trevor vouched for the teriyaki and Isabelle the Bourbon Street Grill. Wirt stayed quiet while the other teens effectively welcomed the twins with open arms, content to let them have their say and let Dipper and Mabel consider the options freely given to them. He blinked when Greg waved at him to get his attention.

“I want a pretzel,” he told him.

He smiled. “Okay, I’ll get you a pretzel when I go get their food, too.”

“I’ll go with you,” Dipped volunteered immediately. He couldn’t let him out of his sight just yet, even for the few minutes it would take to get food. His hand slipped out of Wirt’s reluctantly when his sister held up both of hers and three quick rounds of rock-paper-scissors decided it.

“Teriyaki, woo! And I want a pretzel too.”

“Okay, okay. Geez.” But Dipper was grinning, hand finding Wirt’s again. He couldn’t help it, too thrilled to be annoyed that she’d somehow won every round.

Before they got up to go grab the food, Greg had asked for ice cream, too, as an afterthought, but was told that they would get him some later since it would melt while he was eating his pretzel, no doubt. The teens at the table were happy to watch him, and also probably set on questioning Mabel about the details concerning her brother and Wirt, but he only worried on that just a tiny bit. It was hard to think about anything else other than the fit of Dipper’s hand in his as they walked through the food court of the mall - _the food court of the mall_ , a normal place with normal people.

“You know, we can go to more than one place to get food, you don’t have to have teriyaki if you don’t want it,” he told him.

“Nah. We’re already going two places, and you guys were already eating. We won’t hold you up.” He swung their hands a little, sidelong smile a little shy. “So... boyfriend, huh?”

Wirt ducked his head and blushed. “Um… yeah. It just kinda slipped out and I get it if you think it’s too soon or presumptuous of me or… It felt like the thing to say.”

He’d missed seeing that, his blush. He’d missed all of it. All of him. It hit him like a fist, plowing into him so suddenly that his breath caught and he had to stop to wrap him into a hug right in the middle of that normal place with normal people. “I like boyfriends. I like it a lot, okay? I... I missed you, man.”

“I missed you, too.” Wirt clung to him immediately, soaking up the contact. “I missed you so much, I… how are you doing? Have you been feeling okay? Does anything still hurt? I know we’ve been talking every day, but it… it’s not the same as having you.”

So much still hurt, but it was largely mental wounds now and he could feel some of them healing just from being close. “Mostly okay. Keeping busy.” He withdrew only far enough to show him one hand and the faint scar left on his palm by a blood oath. “All in one piece, though, so I’m good.”

Wirt took his hand in both of his, brushing his thumb over the thin line. “Good. Good, that’s…” His lips trembled before he made the split-second decision to bring his hand up and press them to his palm. “I’m glad you’re feeling… mostly okay. Now, come on,” he met his gaze and managed a small, shy smile, “I still haven’t eaten either and those guys can sit and talk for hours. I’m not really feeling pretzels or teriyaki, so it’s not a big deal to add one more place. Let me get you what you want, okay? I mean, you came all the way out here to surprise me, it’s the least I can do. Unless the terms of rock paper scissors are non-negotiable.”

Dipper’s fingers flexed, eyes a little wide, blush stealing across his face. _Oh_. “Uh... You’re killing my brain again.” He lifted his free hand to rub the back of his neck, returning the smile. “What do you like? Everyone else gave their ideas, but you didn’t.”

His smile spread as the color on Dipper’s face did. “Well, I didn’t really have anything else to add. I mean, all their suggestions were pretty good. I guess I usually get a sandwich or salad, um…” He shrugged a little, nodding towards the D’Angelo’s sandwich shop. “If you like seafood, their lobster roll is pretty good. I mean, being in New England and all, most anywhere you go you’ll get a good lobster roll, but yeah. I like theirs. Still, I’m up for anything and you said yourself that you’re starving, so whatever you want is perfect with me. How could it not be, you just being here is perfect.”

“Yeah. I still can’t believe Mabel set this up, and if you ever get a chance to fly on a private jet, you should totally give that a shot. It was crazy.” Dipper’s smile slid into a grin, and he tugged Wirt towards the sandwich shop. “Anyway, since I’ve never been to New England, may as well give it a shot.”

“You’re gonna have a month in New England,” Wirt told him, just to feel the bubble of joy that burst every time that thought flickered in his head. “Oh my gosh. We’re going to have a month. I think I could say that all day and it would still seem like a dream.”

“She told me yesterday, and I’m still just... wow. You know? She actually took care of everything, which is crazy unlike her. But, at the same time, this is totally exactly like her. Huge, crazy gestures.”

“We’re going to have to spend half the trip thanking her.” He grinned at him. “So what was your reaction when you found out? You got to see mine firsthand. Were you as eloquent as me?” he asked, laughing softly.

“Am I ever?” They joined the line, fingers lacing with neither certain who’d initiated the move. “I kind of just tried to list all the reasons why it couldn’t happen because, y’know, I kept having to tell myself them. But she shot them down. She really took care of everything.

“And then when I realized it was really a thing that was happening, I kind of just had to sit down in the grass like an idiot. I almost told you right then, but it was a surprise. I liked the idea of surprising you.”

“So last night when I texted you that I missed you and that ‘the seasons cannot shift soon enough, days dwindling by idly on the summer breeze while I long for what’s to come in a year,’ you were basically snickering to yourself, ‘he’s going to see me tomorrow, what a loser.’”

Dipper laughed, shaking his head. “More like ‘we get to see each other tomorrow, if he’s not as happy about it as I am, I’ll die.’ I’m still breathing, so you passed.”

“Good. Though I would’ve hoped my sad, sappy poetry would’ve clued you in on that already.” Wirt squeezed his hand, heart skipping at the sound of his laughter. “I don’t think it’s possible for me to not be happy to see you. Even if it’s only been a minute. That’s how bad this is. You’ve ruined me. We’re going to have to practice so we can make it through the rest of the year in one piece. And I’ll stop talking now so you can actually look at the menu before we get to the counter.”

“Your sad, sappy poetry is the greatest thing, and I hope you never stop texting it to me.” He looped his arm around Wirt’s waist, aching for the familiar contact, and let his gaze rove over the menu display. They weren’t bad options, most healthier than Dipper would’ve chosen for himself. But it didn’t surprise him that Wirt’s taste buds ran closer to the healthy, his utter fondness for candy notwithstanding.

“Lobster roll works for me. I’ll probably need a second order of fries to keep Mabel from eating all of mine, though.”

“I’ll share mine with you.” Wirt shrugged, leaning into him as he draped his arm across Dipper’s shoulders in return. “I can never finish them. Greg usually does, but if he’s getting a pretzel and ice cream later, I’m not sure he’ll want them.”

“Greg ‘bottomless pit’ Whelan not wanting your food? Now you’re just talking crazy,” he teased.

Wirt laughed. “Well, maybe ‘want’ is too strong of a word. It’s more like, I’m not sure I’ll let him have them if he’s also getting a pretzel and ice cream. Not unless we want to deal with Greg ‘bottomless pit’ Whelan’s stomach ache afterwards.”

“Good point,” Dipper murmured, unable to keep the joke when his entire expression had melted into sheer fondness. He’d missed watching him laugh, watching his nose scrunch. He’d missed being close. His mood was up and down, but he couldn’t help it. He was so happy and relieved to have him back, but his mind kept wanting to remind him that wouldn’t be able to stay together. Still, he kept the discomfort out of his gaze and only gave his boyfriend - _his boyfriend!_ \- a tight squeeze.

“So any plans after food? I don’t know how long you’ve been here roaming today.”

“Oh gosh, um… not long? I think we’ve only been walking around for maybe an hour. I’m pretty sure we sat down because Sara noticed I seemed a bit out of it. Preoccupied, you know?” Wirt bumped his hip to Dipper’s, gaze averting as the fond look had his heart fluttering. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure the plan was just to check out some more stores. Maybe catch a movie if there’s anything interesting playing, but I dunno. They like to play it by ear and I kinda just go along for the ride until it gets to the point where I know I’ve had enough social stimulation.” He waved his free hand in the air a bit, as if that conveyed some aspect of social stimulation, then he perked up when it was their turn to order.

Wirt let Dipper go first, then ordered something similar - forgoing a drink since he already had one - and paid for both their meals. It gave him a pleasant swell of satisfaction to be able to do so. Even if this wasn’t a date, it was a boyfriend thing to do. Because they were boyfriends, it was official. Wirt took the receipt and led Dipper down the counter to wait for their food.

“No paying for Mabel’s, if you’re thinking about that. My sister, my job.” He leaned over, lifting up enough to press a kiss to his cheek because he was there, right there and available. He wasn’t sure he’d get used to it.

“But you’re both guests?” Wirt blinked and his cheeks colored, but after a moment’s thought, his arm went around Dipper’s waist.

“Unexpected guests who aren’t broke. I’ve got it, really.” He bumped their shoulders together, reluctantly stepping away to gather the bag with their food. It had been easier to say it was to-go, considering that they had two more stops to make.

Wirt huffed a little, but let it lie and followed him to the next two places for Mabel’s teriyaki and then the two pretzels. They were met with two very gracious and ravenous siblings upon their return, who immediately tore into their food, while the other teens eyed the newly returned pair with interest. Wirt glanced at Mabel as he sat down, hoping by some stroke of luck that she hadn’t divulged too much to their prodding.

Mabel beamed. “Ob-waffle.”

“Oh my god. Don't start that again.”

“It never stopped!”

Wirt sighed, slumping in his seat. “She’s right though.”

Greg had made quite sure to let him know that ob-waffle was still in effect whenever he had the chance. Wirt still had no idea what the heck the word meant, that was a secret between Greg and Mabel, but he knew it was some code word for him and Dipper. He reached for his drink, raising an eyebrow when he found it was only half-full. His gaze flicked up to his little brother, who smiled innocently before taking a huge bite of his pretzel.

“Hm.” Wirt narrowed his gaze.

“So, Dipper,” Sara started, canting her head as she smiled at him, nodding a little at his hat. “You like pine trees, too?” Her grin spread when Wirt appeared confused and mouthed ‘too?’ to himself, but the realization hit him fast and then he was staring at her with a subtle, nearly nonexistent shake of his head and she clearly relished in it.

Dipper, oblivious to the significance, tugged at the bill of his hat and grinned. “Well, y’know, my last name’s Pines. I’ve had this hat since I was twelve. It kind of works out.”

“That’s cool,” she replied, leaning back in her chair and Wirt hoped that would be the end of it, but she looked like she was trying not to laugh as she avoided his stare and focused on Dipper. “Then I’m sure you know that’s Wirt’s favorite tree, right?”

“I never said that,” he muttered to himself, shoulders hunching as his wish suddenly shifted to becoming invisible. He would really like to be invisible.

“Well, it would explain why you were so into that clock,” she pointed out. “I still think you should’ve gone for it.”

Mabel laughed, reaching out to pat Sara’s shoulder and wholeheartedly approving her obvious matchmaking. Or match-keeping. “I like you. We should absolutely be friends.”

Dipper rolled his eyes at her, then bumped his shoulder to Wirt’s. “What clock?”

“Clock? What clock? There wasn’t any clock.” Wirt hid his face with his hand.

“I thought there were two clocks,” Isabelle spoke up. “Weren’t you looking at a really cool one with constellations on it? I would’ve pegged that as something you’d be more interested in though, Sara. Since you like space and all.”

Sara shrugged. “I dunno. It kinda makes sense. I mean, there’s something poetic about stars. It doesn’t all have to be science.”

“I hate all of you.” Wirt’s voice was muffled as he stayed hidden. “Please be quiet.”

The comments on the constellation clock had been innocent enough, after all, no one could pinpoint why he’d been interested in it the way they could with Dipper’s hat and last name. As far as they knew, it was just about stars and poetry and constellations were cool, it didn’t have to be about Dipper. It was, but no one else had to know that.

“There was a clock in a store and I collect clocks, I don’t know why, it’s a thing I do, you’ll see them at home, and it was a cuckoo clock with pine trees carved into it, like a woods theme and I guess it reminded me of you, so I spent the whole time in the store looking at it,” he rambled, hands falling away so he could look at Dipper, hoping to distract him and everyone else by talking about the obvious pine tree clock. “That’s it. That’s the story. It wasn’t even a very good story. I don’t know why anyone brought it up.”

It wasn’t in Dipper to care, at that moment, that they were surrounded by Wirt’s friends and their siblings. Without a thought to any of it, he cupped his boyfriend’s chin and kissed him soundly.  They may not have understood the significance of the constellation clock, but he did. And he appreciated how, embarrassed or not, Wirt skipped over it.

“So we’re definitely going back to get those clocks, right?”

Wirt blinked, though mortification and worry still lined his eyes as he looked at him even as the ball of tension knotted in his gut eased and his shoulders relaxed. “Both of them?”

“Dude. Yes. I’m completely offended that you didn’t buy them sooner,” he teased.

Color returned to his face as he smiled weakly. “Sorry? I uh… I didn’t know which one to… and I wasn’t sure- I- I dunno. I thought I was being weird. I mean, they were just clocks, but…”

“You’re not weird, man.” Dipper let his hand fall, straightening his hat with a grin. “You’re just you, and I kinda completely like that.”

How that was possible still baffled him. Wirt tapped the bill of his hat, then dropped his hand to catch Dipper’s and give it a squeeze. “Well, that’s perfect, then, because I kinda completely like that you’re you, too.”

“Wirt. How have you been hiding that you’re secretly such an adorable sap from us for so long?” Trevor complained, breaking the moment.

“I don’t think he was ever really hiding it,” Sara replied with a grin, well-acquainted with his penchant for adorable sappiness thanks to a particular mixtape.

Mabel giggled. “How could he? He’s too sweet to know how.” To save him, and because she was genuinely interested, she pointed at Isabelle’s bell pepper earrings. “Those are so cute! Where’d you get them?”

She perked up, pushing back her hair to show them off, smile bright. “At a store here in the mall. I can show you after we’re done eating!”

“Oh god, no,” Trevor groaned, and even Wirt couldn’t keep the amused smile from his lips while Sara chuckled at their friend’s overdramatic sighing. “Not again.”

Dipper just grinned, giving Wirt’s hand another squeeze, and scooted his entire chair closer to press against his side. He’d had enough distance for a while.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If we named these chapters, I think this one would be called "Where are Wirt's Parents, These Boys are Making Out on the Bed with no Supervision" or "Jason Funderberker"
> 
> Or Dipper just saying "This guy????"
> 
> Any of these make for a good title.

Wirt’s bedroom wasn’t quite what he’d expected it to be, but Dipper immediately loved it. The shag carpet was easily the ugliest orange he’d ever seen, and it was kind of ridiculous that he’d bother having a second rug on top of it. Softness on softness, though, pretty much suited his boyfriend. And the dozens upon dozens of scraps of paper on the wall immediately made it feel like home for Dipper, cork boards or no, there was writing on the wall. The fact that they were poems and little notes to self rather than theories and equations didn’t hinder that in the slightest.

The clarinet on his bed made him ache a little, but it wasn’t exactly easy to lug a sousaphone onto an airplane, whether it was a private one or not. He started to cross to it, hoping to get Wirt to play him something, but had to pause and laugh at the freaking table in the middle of his room. He poked the train on it, sitting sturdy on unfinished tracks, and grinned. “Your desk is a friggin’ table? That’s amazing.”

When he turned back, his gaze was caught by the clocks on the wall above his bed and he immediately went to them, climbing onto his bed, to touch and admire them all and then just had to laugh because Wirt was still holding the bag with his newest additions. “I like your room, man.”

“Yeah?” Wirt hovered by the door, watching Dipper take in the room, chest tight as he hoped for his approval. “It’s… it’s pretty dated, I mean, with the carpet and that uh- that one wall with the wood panelling, I don’t know why that’s the only one that has it, and yeah, my desk’s a table because it feels like there’s more space and- and I’m sorry. You already said you like it, so I should just be quiet, but you really like it?”

“It’s great, man. It totally works with you.” He bounced in place a bit, feeling a little odd in socked feet. He rarely spent a moment of the summer without his sneakers on and tied and ready. If there wasn’t something to do in the Shack, there was something to do in the woods. Something to fight, explore, discover.

But there was nothing to do here. Nothing required, anyway, and it was the strangest of things. “This whole place suits you.”

Wirt’s smile came easily at the affirmation and he headed for his bed to set the bag on it. “What? The whole house or Lakeville, city of lakes?” he chuckled, removing the cuckoo clock first.

He held it out in front of him, tongue poking out a bit as he gauged the size of it and compared it to the space he had available on the wall. He already knew where he wanted the constellation clock, the empty spot right above the head of his bed was perfect. Wirt knelt on his bed, scooting over to the wall it was pressed against and tried out a potential place for the pine tree clock.

Dipper scooted to the edge of his bed, giving him space and plucking up the clarinet to let his fingers play over the keys. Woodwinds had way too many of them. “Right now, the whole house. But probably the town. We haven’t explored that for me to say for sure, but after roaming around the mall with your friends, I’m betting the town too.”

“Well, we definitely have time to explore the town fully for you to make a call on that. A _month_. Still not sure I believe it.” Wirt wiggled a bit, stretching his arms up higher to consider a different spot and hummed. “What do you think?” he asked, tilting his head toward Dipper, flushing lightly when he noticed his clarinet in his hands.

“It looks good, more spaced out up higher like that.” His smile spread into a grin at Wirt’s blush. He’d missed seeing it. He’d missed being close enough to reach out. He’d missed having someone to sleep beside, which wasn’t altogether surprising since he and Mabel had shared a room more years than not. It didn’t negate the fact that he’d just plain missed him. “Where’s the other clock going?”

The color in his cheeks deepened. “Above the head of my bed.” He nodded slightly towards the space on the wall. “Maybe. Yeah.”

Dipper laughed, climbing more fully onto the bed to hug him. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t just get them right away. You probably would’ve regretted not doing it.”

“I… I don’t know.” Wirt set the clock down so he could lean into the embrace, arms looping around him loosely in return. “I thought getting two seemed excessive? And then I couldn’t decide on just one and- yeah, I would’ve regretted it. I do that a lot. I don’t ever have buyer’s remorse, I have not-buyer’s remorse.”

“Good thing I showed up to save you from yourself,” he teased, releasing Wirt briefly to shift his hat to the side so their brows could rest together comfortably. “I’m gonna owe Mabel this favor for forever. Like, there’s no comparing.”

“Me too. I don’t know what I could possibly do for her in return, but between the two of us, I’m sure we could think of something.” While he had the time, he let his gaze rove over Dipper’s face, recommitting every detail to memory. “I’m really glad you’re here. I know it’s only been two weeks, but I… I’m seriously so happy you’re here.”

Dipper closed his eyes to hide the flicker of desperation that churned through him, fingers curling into his sweater because he’d needed this. He’d needed Wirt and the easy comfort provided by something as simple as proximity. There were things he knew he needed to talk about, things he’d spent every night for two weeks waking up in a panic over. But it was their first day back together. Dipper didn’t want to talk about it then. He didn’t want to spoil their reunion, and maybe the nightmares would go away with someone to curl up beside.

“I missed you.” His eyes opened again, lips curving. “I crazy missed you, and I can’t even start to say how happy I am to be here because, like, that word’s not even close.”

Wirt returned the smile, then pressed their lips together as his arms tightened around him. The only warning before he leaned back, taking Dipper with him as he fell back on the bed. It took some shifting to get his legs straight, but it was worth it to hold him on top of him.

“You could show me instead,” he suggested with a laugh, but then the words caught up to him and his eyes widened and his face went right back to burning. “I mean- I didn’t mean, like… I don’t- I don’t know what I meant. Just kiss me or something to shut me up.”

Dipper’s breath caught, but he laughed through it and cupped his cheeks. He could only smile at him for a moment, the pads of his thumbs gently caressing flushed cheeks. “No, it’s a good idea. I’ll show you by kissing you because I want to. Not to shut you up.”

The first kiss was quick and light, almost friendly but for the quick swipe of his tongue to Wirt’s lower lip. It effectively parted them, though, his blushing boyfriend letting out one of his little sounds, and made way for the second kiss.

It was immediately deep, two weeks of pent up longing spilling into it. Dipper let one hand slide up, tangling in Wirt’s hair, and gave him all that he could. All of his need to be close, all of his joy at finally being close. All of his love. He pressed him into the bed, a direct contrast to the gentle hand still on his face, and gave and gave.

Wirt gasped, the feelings all mutual and almost too much. His hands slipped beneath Dipper’s vest, gripping his shirt tightly, possessively. He didn’t want to let him go for even a second for the next four weeks. Shivering as that thought surged through him, and when Dipper’s tongue did something incredibly clever, Wirt pressed closer. He accepted and gave back and the reality of _he’s here, he’s here, he’s here_ shook him to the core.

It lasted as long as he could make it, each of them stealing breaths here and there. It eventually caught up with them, though, and Dipper rolled over as the kiss broke. He held fast to Wirt, pulling him along until they were both on their sides, and still didn’t let go. His fingers curled into the back of his sweater, lips capturing his again because he needed to.

“I think... I think that almost explained it,” he panted.

“Yeah… that was- it was a good… It was good,” Wirt breathed, then claimed a kiss for himself that lasted a beat. “I think you conveyed your more-than-happiness.”

Dipper smiled, a laugh bubbling up and out, filling their next kiss. “Oh my god, I could spend the whole month just _here_ with you. Let’s just do that. A whole month of laying around and making out. I think we could make that work.”

“I second that. It’s better than what I had planned originally,” he laughed along with him, removing one hand from under his vest to toy with the curls peeking out from beneath his cap. “Lying around and making out definitely trumps lying around and missing you. We might have to take breaks for food though. And siblings. My door doesn’t lock, by the way. They could come in at any moment.”

Dipper considered that for a moment and brushed their noses together. “Doesn’t really matter. Outliers can’t be stopped by locks.”

Wirt’s scrunched on reflex. “Outliers?” he chuckled. “Also, are you saying Mabel can pick locks, because that’s kind of a scary power to envision her having. And even scarier to imagine her bestowing on Greg.”

“Well, y’know... It’s more we?” He shrugged, his expression torn between embarrassment and being pleased with himself. “We can both pick locks. Grunkle Stan showed us how.”

“Okay. Guess I’m not entirely surprised by that.” Wirt couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “I hope you at least use your powers for good and not evil.”

“Besides a very brief stint in the county jail for counterfeiting when I was twelve, I am a model citizen.”

“Counterfeiting?” Wirt sat up and, while only partly surprised, feigned a look of absolute horror as he gaped at him. “Who are you? I feel like I don’t even know you anymore.”

With another laugh, Dipper rolled onto his back and folded his hands over his stomach on a shrug. “It was our first summer in Gravity Falls, and Grunkle Stan decided he wanted to bond with us. You may have noticed that he has no idea what age appropriate bonding activities include, and it beat sweeping the gift shop floor again.”

“Remind me never to leave Greg alone with him again.”

Wirt shook his head, but his smile was back as he leaned on his elbow, propping his head up with it as he looked him over. Dipper Pines was in his room, on his bed, and they’d just made out. This was certainly not the way he thought his day would end up being when he woke up this morning.

“Hey, so, I’ll clear out a space for your stuff in my dresser a little later since, you know, a month is kinda a long time to live out of a suitcase and that way you can unpack and stuff, but is there anything you wanted to do before that? Besides laying around and making… making out, um. Which is fine, I guess I just feel like I need to play host and make your stay with us here as comfortable as possible. Like, are you thirsty? I didn’t even ask if you were thirsty. Do you want a drink?”

“I’d make a tall drink of water joke, but I’m above that kind of thing.” His grin widened. “But I’m okay. Oh, wait. Mabel and I brought a case of Pitt Cola because we just had to. It’s in my bag, so I should probably shove that in your fridge if there’s room.”

“For Pitt Cola? No. No, there’s no room.” Wirt tried to tell him with a straight face. “You do know that we have soda here, too, right? Soda that isn’t likely to murder you with hidden pits at the bottom of the can.”

“Pitt Cola is summer soda. I left home for you, so I get my weird soda that you liked just fine before I told you there was an actual pit.”

Wirt narrowed his eyes. “Pits belong in peaches, they don’t belong in soda. Why even leave it in?” But he was getting off the bed with the intention of finding room in their fridge for the soda nonetheless. “We can put whatever doesn’t fit in the garage and restock if you run low.”

“Awesome.” Dipper didn’t plan on running low, intending to leave a couple of the cans behind at the end of the month. It was probably dumb, but he wanted Wirt to see them when he opened the fridge and think about him. He wasn’t about to say it aloud, of course.

He rolled off the bed and went to his suitcase and had to hold it down carefully as he unzipped it the contents didn’t spring out haphazardly. “Anyway, you don’t have to clear out any space. I’m cool with living out of a suitcase. If this stuff went into a drawer, I might actually have to fold it.”

“It’s no trouble. I usually just shove everything wherever, but uh… Mom kept telling me to clean my room. Obviously because you were coming, but I just thought it was because she was tired of it being a mess.” Wirt rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, waiting for Dipper to pull out the case of soda before leading the way to the kitchen. “Anyway, I’ll probably end up with a bunch of space in a drawer sooner or later, so why not use it for your stuff? You don’t even have to fold it. I wouldn’t force you to do that, I’m not a monster.”

“Don’t say such romantic things. My heart can’t handle it,” he teased and was nearly plowed over by his twin as she sprinted down the hall.

Seven year old and frog were on her shoulders and head, respectively, and she grinned. “Hi! Amy - she said we could call her Amy, which is really nice; your parents are really nice, Wirt - wanted to know if we’d thought about what we might want for dinner later.”

“Um. Food.”

“That’s what I said! She said to be more specific.”

Dipper blinked. “Edible food.”

Wirt laughed, stifling it with his hand. “Well, um. We can definitely manage that, I think.” He glanced between the twins. “How do you guys feel about homemade macaroni and cheese? Mom’s got a pretty good recipe and I think we have all the stuff for it.”

“But we don’t have the bread!” Greg pointed out with a gasp, pointing at Wirt as well. “For garlic bread, Wirt! You can’t forget that!”

“Jonathan can go to the store and get some, Greg. It’ll take him five minutes. Or I’ll go get it. It’s not the end of the world.”

“We should go!” Mabel chirped, bouncing in place.

Dipper shifted the case of soda from one hand to the other. “Yeah, I’m in for that.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah, we can all go.” Wirt nodded, then shrugged a little. “We’ll have to walk though. We’ve only got two bikes and then Greg’s.”

“Hey, my bike counts as a bike,” he protested.

Wirt motioned for everyone to continue into the kitchen so Dipper could put the case of soda down. “It might count as a bike, but it doesn’t count as something any of us could ride.” He gestured to the three teens.

“Maybe you don’t count as people who could ride it,” Greg retorted, then waved at their mom when they passed her as she added two places to the dining room table. “Hi, Mom! We’re having macaroni and cheese! It’s been decided!”

“Please,” Wirt tacked on as he opened the fridge.

“Please,” Greg repeated.

She smiled, resting her elbows on the back of a chair that didn’t quite match the others. “I think I can manage that. Wirt, can you pick up the-”

“We’re already on the mission, Mom!” Greg informed her. “We’re all going! It’ll be an adventure! Not a mystery adventure, but a grocery adventure. To find the baguette of bread!”

“Well, while it might not be as exciting as a mystery adventure, I’m sure a grocery adventure will have obstacles of its own,” she replied, leaving the dining room to fetch her purse. “Let me give you some money, and while you’re out, if there’s anything you want to pick up while you’re there, Dipper, Mabel, feel free. I wasn’t sure if there was anything in particular that you like for breakfast or lunch.”

“Anything. We’re not picky.”

“And wait, wait! I don’t want to buy anything you might already have!” Mabel swung Greg off her shoulders to scope out the kitchen’s secrets, and Dipper swung him onto his own when she passed both him and Jason Funderburker over.

“And, like, you don’t have to pay for us? It’s totally cool that you’re just letting us stay.”

“Hear that, Wirt,” Amy called out with a grin, pulling a twenty dollar bill out of her wallet. “Your mom’s totally cool.”

“I could’ve told you that, Mom,” he replied, trying to fight the carton of milk and force it into the space on the door to make enough room for the soda while Mabel perused the fridge alongside him. “And it’s no use trying to fight her on it, Dipper. She’ll find ways to pay for your food. It’s the nurturing, mother instinct.”

Amy handed Greg the money. “Guard this with your life, soldier.”

“Okay, Mom!” Greg took it, then laid it on the bill of Dipper’s hat. “Here you go, Dipper.”

“Atta boy, corporal.” Dipper took the bill and shoved it into his back pocket with every intention of “forgetting” it on the table. The Pines weren’t going to be burdens, and that was that.

Mabel’s lips pursed as she skipped to the pantry to study the contents there as well. “We should make pizzas tomorrow for lunch. We can get that stuff easy. Do you have a pizza stone?”

“Um.” Wirt furrowed his brow, glancing up from the fridge. “Mom?”

“It’s in the broiler, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, we do,” Wirt confirmed unnecessarily. “Should I make a list of the things we need for that? Just so we don’t forget anything.”

“Dipper’ll remember. Oh, good, lasagna noodles!” She leaned out of the pantry to beam at Amy. “Were you going to use these for anything? I don’t know if you make menus?”

She smiled back at her, delighted by her exuberance. “We usually play it by ear. Jon’s the one who makes lasagna, but he won’t mind if you use it. He might not even notice that it’s gone.”

“If he knows we even have any in the first place,” Wirt added, taking a step back to survey the fridge with satisfaction. Then he grabbed the case of soda and pushed the whole thing into the bottom row. Victory. “Yes.” It even closed all the way.

“Okay, good! Pizza things and lasagna things except noodles. And-”

“Mabel, we’re _walking_ ,” Dipper reminded her. “Save it for when we have actual transportation.”

She pursed her lips, swaying side to side as she considered. “I was thinking cupcakes. It’s a cupcake day, and I thiiiink... Okay, I just need chocolate chips. And that’s it.”

Wirt blinked at her, finally more involved in the conversation. “Wait, we don’t already have a bag?” He took a quick glance inside the pantry. “We always have chocolate chips.”

“I didn’t eat them.” Greg hugged the top of Dipper’s head, looking anywhere but Wirt. “A ghost did.”

“A ghost ate the whole bag of chocolate chips?” Wirt stared at him, unimpressed.

“Yes.”

He sighed. “This is why we can’t have nice things. Greg eats them.”

“Ghosts eat them, Wirt! Wait-” Greg looked upside-down at Dipper. “Do ghosts eat chocolate chips? And marshmallows and peanut butter out of the jar?”

“Higher levels can make it seem like they’re eating things, but they’re really just immaterializing or relocating them. But you’d notice a lot more than missing chocolate chips if you had a high level ghost haunting the place.”

“Ha!” Wirt pointed at Greg. “The words of a paranormal expert! Now you can’t use the ghost excuse anymore!”

Greg puffed up his cheeks and glowered for a moment, then lifted his chin. “It was gremlins. Mogwais ate after midnight and then they turned into gremlins and left for Alaska so they could live in the dark.”

“Oh my gosh. Greg, no.”

“Gregory, I love your imagination, but try not to give your brother such a hard time.” Amy ruffled his hair. “Don’t you want him to believe you when there actually are gremlins in the house?”

“No. He’d probably make them leave,” he replied.

“Gremlins wouldn’t show up in this part of the country around now anyway. They like the midwest in the summer, more humidity.”

“And they try to bite your toes,” Mabel put in, making a face.

“I told you not to wear sandals.”

“They matched my sweater.”

Greg sighed heavily, yet another monster to pin excuses on taken away from him. “Why don’t you ask Dipper what kinds of creatures steal sweets from the kitchen?” He perked up and grinned at his mom. At least she was on his side.

“Are there any?” he asked.

“I can think of one off the top of my head,” Wirt mumbled, “and it’s named Gregory.”

“What I said about ‘giving your brother a hard time’ goes for you as well, Wirt. Behave yourselves while you’re out.” Amy looked to them both, then to the twins. “Let me know if they don’t keep in line.”

Identical grins flashed, two heads bobbing in unison. “Okay!” The twins crossed the room, one to grab Greg and the other to latch onto Wirt’s hand.

“To the store, corporal! And then we’ll have a cupcake adventure!” Mabel cheered. Dipper only grinned.

 

\----

 

“Shopping cart race, Wirt!”

“Greg-”

“C’mon! There’s four of us! It’ll be fun! Brothers versus twins! Or older siblings versus younger siblings! Or you and Dipper versus me and Mabel! The possibilities are endless!” Greg pointed out as he ran over to the nearest line of carts. “Please?”

Wirt glanced around the store. It wasn’t very crowded, still early enough that people hadn’t shown up for the rush before dinner, picking up last minute essentials on the way back from their commutes. A shopping cart race was a possibility.

“Maybe,” he acquiesced and Greg’s face lit up. “But only after we’ve got everything we need, okay? We do that first, then have a shopping cart race.”

“Yeah!” he cheered, tugging one with an obviously wonky wheel out from the selection. “Mabel! Mabel! Let’s pick this one! It’s lucky, I can tell.”

Whether it actually was or not was clearly up for debate, but Mabel wasn’t about to argue. “Then that’s the one we’ll have.”

“Okay.” Greg pulled the shopping cart over to her. “We’ll go get the fun ingredients and you guys,” he pointed to Dipper and Wirt, “can get the not-as-fun ingredients.”

“What constitutes not-as-fun ingredients?” Dipper wondered, grabbing a cart for himself and Wirt. They really only needed a basket, and splitting up was pointless considering how little they were actually getting, but he didn’t feel like arguing against spending time alone with Wirt.

“Anything that’s not cheese and chocolate chips. And pepperonis because yum.” Mabel scooped Greg up and settled him into the basket, a little envious that he was still small enough to ride.

“Alright,” Wirt agreed. “We’ll meet up over by… the bread when we’re done.”

Greg gave him a thumbs up. “Excellent choice of rendezvous point.”

With a shrug, Wirt watched the two of them set off, hoping that the younger one wouldn’t start reaching for things they didn’t need from the shelves and throwing them in the cart when Mabel wasn’t looking. Since they were not getting too many things, it wouldn’t escape their notice when they got to the checkout line anyway, but it would be a pain to have to put everything back. He sidled up to Dipper and scuffed his shoes against the tile floor.

“Want me to- um… I can push the cart, if you want,” he offered.

He relinquished the cart, smile easy. “Sure. Since you’re being all shy and cute about it.” Dipper lifted to his toes to press a kiss to his temple. “Come on. If their half of the list is that short, we’ve gotta move. Mabel will load that cart with junk and we’ll have to get a ride home.”

“And if Greg’s helping her, we might even need two cars.” Wirt started pushing the cart, leading the way to the aisles that would have what they needed. “So, tomato sauce stuff first then?”

“Yeah. Tomato sauce, diced tomatoes, hamburger meat - they’ve got the cheese, so that’s it for lasagna. And then pizza dough and toppings. Pepperoni just isn’t enough. Oh, and garlic bread. Whole reason why the store was brought up. Do you guys buy the freezer stuff or do you buy loaves and make it that way?”

“Loaves,” Wirt answered with a hum, placing one foot on the cart and pushed off a little with the other as they turned into the canned foods for the two tomato items. “Mom makes her own garlic spread. What kind of toppings do you like on pizza?” he asked, nabbing his family’s preferred brand of sauce after checking the price to make sure it was a good deal.

“So does Mabel. Better than freezer stuff.” Dipper checked off tomatoes on his mental list. “And I like everything, basically, except pineapple and anchovies. And cheese, for the most part. I’d rather have _stuff_.”

Wirt chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Cheese isn’t stuff?”

“Cheese is glue. A little’s enough.” He snapped his fingers. “Pizza sauce, almost forgot.” He snagged a jar, the label the same as what Wirt had already put in the cart.

“Well, I’m not sure we’ll be able to get _every_ pizza topping, but we’ll see what we can-” Wirt’s teasing stopped suddenly, his eyes wide as his face blanched and he stared straight ahead of them at the opposite end of the aisle. Or rather, who turned into their aisle. “Oh no,” he whispered, hands clenching the handle of the cart.

Dipper spun immediately, tensing and ready to shield Wirt from whatever or whoever it was. Baffled immediately, he glanced back at Wirt. “What...?”

Only able to glance away from the object of his utter dread because of the suddenness of Dipper’s movements, Wirt pressed his lips together as apology lined his eyes. “Sorry. Sorry, it’s nothing. It’s just-”

“Hey, Wirt.”

The all-too familiar croak of the total package sent a shiver down his spine and he prided himself in the way he didn’t flinch at the sound of his voice. “H-hey, Jason Funderberker,” he squeaked, forcing a smile as he met the other boy’s gaze. “Fancy… fancy meeting you here.”

“Yeah. Haven’t seen you much since summer started.” Jason’s smile was more genuine as he glanced down at the contents of Wirt’s shopping cart, a basket clutched in his hand. “Doing some shopping?”

“Yeah… yeah, um. That’s- that’s what we’re doing.” Wirt stared at his hands on the cart, making sure they didn’t tremble or grip too tightly.

“We?”

Wirt lifted his head suddenly. “Oh. Um, yeah, me and…” He turned to Dipper prying a hand away so he could gesture at him. “Dipper. This is Dipper Pines. Dipper, um… meet Jason Funderberker.”

“Hi, nice to meet you.” Jason held his hand out for a shake, tilting his head a little. “Have we met before? You seem familiar.”

Jason Funderberker. Jason. Funderberker. _This_ was Jason Funderberker?! His adorable, smart, funny, sweet boyfriend was intimidated by _this_ guy? He and Greg had basically named their frog after _this_ guy?

More than a little confused, Dipper shook quickly and tried hard to understand just what he was missing here. There had to be something. Why would Wirt ever feel uncomfortable around this guy? “Probably not unless you’ve been on the west coast. California or Oregon.”

“Oh. No I haven’t.” Jason Funderberker shoved his hand in his pocket once it was free, still smiling so friendly-like. “Guess you just have one of those faces.”

Wirt refrained the urge to run him over with his cart. “Yeah, he’s visiting. So. So, we’ve… we’ve gotta get back to shopping now and um… you do, too, obviously.” He gestured to the basket.

“Yeah. You guys making pasta?” he asked, not seeming to take the hint and run with it. Run with it far away from them.

“Sure. At some point.” Wirt scuffed his shoes on the floor and pretended to peruse the shelves next to him for anything useful. There was nothing. He grabbed a jar of capers and considered it anyway. Of course, he should have grabbed something that had a long list of nutritional information facts, but it was too late at this point. He was stuck with capers. He didn’t even know what capers tasted like, he’d never had them.

“Cool. I’m making chicken cordon bleu with an orzo pasta salad on the side. It’s gonna take a while, I should’ve started earlier.” He shook his head at himself, then reached out and patted Wirt on the shoulder. “Have fun shopping. We should catch up some time.”

“Yeah. Of course. Definitely.” Wirt’s fake smile became strained when he did the same to Dipper.

“Nice to meet you again. Enjoy your stay.” Jason Funderberker waved, then brushed past them to continue his fancy shopping for his fancy dinner that he’d cook fancily.

Very slowly, Wirt’s shoulders lost their stiffness and the arm holding the capers lowered as the footsteps faded. He exhaled shakily, color returning to his cheeks a lot faster in his mortification and he hesitated to look at Dipper. He fixated on picking at the label for the capers instead.

Dipper threw his hands up, pacing away and then back as he tried to figure out what had just happened. Every muttered, under the breath mention of Jason Funderberker had left Dipper picturing some awful, stereotypical dirtbag. But what had just breezed by in complete clueless wonder had been nothing short of an absolute dweeb. He’d been wearing a _suit_! Who wore suits in a grocery store? Who subjected themselves to suits on purpose?

“What was that? What _was_ that?” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Oh my god, I am so confused.” Dipper paced back to Wirt, swiveling the bill of his hat out of the way before cupping his chin and pressing their lips together as if it would help solve this latest mystery. And maybe because he was a little bit jealous that they’d named their frog after an absolute dweeb and he’d managed to instantaneously fluster his boyfriend. What was happening?!

Wirt squeaked, not expecting the firm kiss in the middle of an aisle at his hometown grocery store after having run into total package Jason Funderberker. His free hand went to Dipper’s chest while the other tightened around the jar to keep from dropping it, his fingers clutching at his shirt when he finally made the decision to kiss back.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted when they parted, ducking his head away. “I know- I don’t know why- it’s just…” Wirt sighed, smoothing out the creases he made in Dipper’s shirt. “What… what are you confused about? In particular. Maybe I can clear things up?”

“That _guy_! That complete and total _dweeb_ making you freak out! What- Why would- _Why_?! You’re amazing and cute and cute and smart and funny and _smart_ , and that guy can’t even tell that you don’t even want to talk to him- You named your frog after some guy who can’t even hold a candle to you, and I’m _so_ confused!”

“You said ‘cute’ and ‘smart’ twice,” Wirt muttered, fidgeting where he stood. “I… he’s not a dweeb, he’s… everyone loves him and he’s got his act together and he knows how to make chicken cordon bleu- I don’t even know what chicken cordon bleu is! Or capers!” He showed Dipper the jar as if that proved a point. “They’re somehow related to olives? Maybe? I don’t- _Ugh_. That’s not the point.”

He set the capers back on the shelf so he could cross his arms and continue to try and explain at least something for Dipper. “I didn’t name our frog after him on purpose. If I’d been thinking clearly, I would’ve picked something else, but Greg was dying and I needed him to keep talking so he wouldn’t and- and it was the first name that popped into my head because I’d finally remembered how we got there. The Unknown. And he was there and his name just- that’s what I thought of. It wasn’t on purpose. And he might not hold a candle, but that’s because he’s too busy holding a freaking chandelier.”

“A chan-” Dipper just gaped at him, shocked. He could accept the name explanation, but the rest? “What are you _talking_ about? Did we even see the same guy?!”

Defensive, Wirt hunched in on himself and stared at a spot on the floor. He shrugged. “Mm-mm-mm.” He knew who he saw. Maybe Dipper hadn’t talked to him long enough to see that it was there, but Jason Funderberker had it all. Except have Dipper as his boyfriend. Oh god, what if that was _next_?

“Hey, don’t...” Dipper sighed, pulling him into a hug. “Don’t close off, okay? I just don’t see whatever it is you are, and... Oh my god, you’re making me a little jealous over a dweeb. You’re making me apologize for being jealous over a dweeb.”

Wirt’s head snapped up, stunned gaze immediately searching for Dipper’s, searching for the joke. “You’re jealous? _You’re_ jealous. Why?”

“You’re kidding, right? How am I not supposed to be jealous when my amazing boyfriend is telling me how great some other guy is? He wouldn’t last two seconds in Gravity Falls but you’re comparing him to a freaking chandelier, and it’s not like I know what chicken cordon whatever is either, so where does that put _me_ on the candle to chandelier scale? Then your feelings are getting hurt because I don’t see what the big deal is about him, so-”

He pressed his lips together, cutting himself off and averting his gaze. “Okay, so maybe I’m a lot jealous,” Dipper mumbled, color rising. “Whatever.”

Wirt’s shoulders sagged, his arms winding around his waist. “Dipper, no, I didn’t… I didn’t mean-” He squeezed him and nudged their brows together. “You’re the sun. You have absolutely nothing to be jealous about. Nobody tops you. And you don’t have to see what the big deal is about him, I don’t really want you to, it’s just… I know it’s dumb and I don’t know why I feel like I do compared to him, I just- you sounded like it was so impossible for me to… and I’m trying not to, but it’s hard, Dipper. But it has nothing to do with how I feel about you. You’re the sun.”

“Okay, but...” Dipper captured his lips, the kiss quick and light and aiming to soothe. “I’m sorry. It just threw me off, y’know? Like he wasn’t anything that I expected, just this dweeb - and you’re not gonna convince me he’s not one. And then I seeing you getting all... I don’t know.

“I don’t like seeing you freak out like you think you’re less somehow. When to me, you’re like... you’re incredible, and you do incredible things. And I-” _I love you_. It hung there, waiting to fall, but he swallowed it back and brushed their noses together. “That’s all I see, man. You’re amazing and deserve to feel that you’re amazing, and it kinda kills me that you don’t see it.”

Wirt pressed his lips to Dipper’s. Sure, they were standing in the middle of a grocery store next to canned vegetables and pasta things, so it wasn’t exactly romantic, but his words had his heart leaping into his throat and he needed to comfort him in return. Show his appreciation and how much he… loved him? Maybe. No, not maybe, but it seemed a rather bold thing to think nonetheless so he forced it down for now and focused on just kissing him.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you feel bad about this,” he told him. “I’ll… I’ll try? I’ll try.” For him, he’d do pretty much anything.

“Good enough for me.” Dipper gave him a last squeeze before stepping back, grin returning. “Okay, so what were we talking about? Pizza things. What do you like?”

Wirt started to shrug, say it didn’t matter, but he hesitated as his gaze lingered on his smile. “When it’s not, you know… automatically pepperoni, I guess I like sausage. And pretty much any vegetable except jalapeños- do jalapeños count? As vegetables? I think they do. They’re a pepper, after all, and bell peppers count so why not… why not jalapeños. Um. Yeah.” He clamped his mouth shut against anymore pointless babbling.

“Makes sense.” He reached up, cupping Wirt’s cheek briefly. “So we’ll get sausage when we get hamburger meat and hit the produce section. You still got the cart?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, taking a deep breath as he relaxed from whatever the heck Jason Funderberker did to his nerves just by existing.

He wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of ruining his shopping trip with Dipper. They only had so much time together, he didn’t want to waste it feeling all crummy over Jason Funderberker or worse - making Dipper feel jealous of him when there was absolutely nothing for him to be jealous of. Though, he had to admit, it was kind of sweet. He just wanted him to feel good about himself, he couldn’t really begrudge Dipper that.

Wirt nodded again, more firmly as he managed a smile for him. “Yeah, I got this, admiral. You just keep track of that list in that lovely brain of yours and I’ll handle cart navigation. Teamwork.”


	4. Chapter 4

Wirt had paid. Dipper was still trying to figure out how exactly that had happened, but he placed the blame squarely on Greg’s shoulders. Somehow he’d gotten a hold of the twenty Dipper had tried to leave behind - “Mom said to guard it with my _life_!” - and while he’d been trying to puzzle that out and bickering with the kid over it, Wirt had been busy passing over bills from his own wallet to the cashier.

He’d been surprised to discover that his mom had given them money, and Dipper had only been more annoyed. They hadn’t been nearly fast enough thanks to the interlude with Jason Funderberker, and the snacks Mabel and Greg had piled into their cart definitely hadn’t ended up being on the cheap side. And he didn’t even have any cash to hand over to try and make up for it!

They should’ve stopped at an ATM back home, but he’d been so giddy over getting the opportunity to see Wirt that it hadn’t crossed his mind. So now he had a debit card and Wirt’s wallet was thirty dollars lighter. He felt like such a _jerk_.

At least Mabel was right there with him. “What do you mean he paid?” she whispered on the walk back. “I thought you were going to!”

“I _was_ ,” he whispered back, frustrated. “Greg distracted me, and he beat me to it.”

“Oh my gosh, I put extra stuff in the cart because you were paying!”

“I-” He glowered at her, nonplussed by that tidbit. “Thanks.”

She grinned briefly, mind quickly returning to the problem at hand. “I don’t have any cash.”

“I don’t either.”

Her head swiveled. “Is there an ATM anywhere?”

“Yeah because those are just all over sleepy little neighborhood corners, Mabel.”

“Well, why don’t you find out where one is?”

His eyes narrowed a fraction. “Let me just pull out my phone and google that - except, oh, wait, I can’t because my hands are full of all the crap you just made Wirt buy!”

“Shh!”

“You shh!”

Since they both had bags in their hands, they couldn’t poke at one another and ended up sticking their tongues out instead. “Brat,” they insulted in unison.

Greg glanced back at them over his shoulder, then up at his brother. “Are we supposed to tell Mom if they’re the ones fighting?”

Wirt chanced a glance back as well, fighting hard to keep from smiling. There wasn’t much distance between them and the twins, but enough that they could go at each other about whatever the problem was privately. Though, it wasn’t so much private anymore, and Dipper had made his problem clear when he started arguing with a seven-year-old over money. He’d tried to explain to his boyfriend that he really didn’t mind paying - and it wasn’t like his mom wouldn’t give him an extra ten dollars to make up for what he’d spent out of his own pocket - but apparently that did very little to appease him.

He huffed out a soft laugh and nudged Greg with his shopping bags. “I’m sure it’ll blow over by the time we get home. Mom doesn’t have to know.”

The younger boy considered this, then nodded. “You’re right. I don’t want to get them in trouble.” Not that their mom could really say or do anything about it. “You know, you could just ask us where the ATM is,” Greg called back to them, turning around to walk backwards. “We live here. We know where everything is!”

They both winced, Dipper ducking his head since he couldn’t tug down the bill of his hat. “Man...”

“It’s okay, Greg.” Mabel laughed, accepting that they’d been overheard. “We’ll just have to buy next time.”

“Guys, it’s really not a big deal,” Wirt piped up, watching the ground to make sure there weren’t any surprising cracks or dips for Greg trip on. “I mean, I get you don’t want to… I don’t know. Burden us, or whatever, but that’s not the case at all. I really didn’t mind paying. And our parents agreed to let you stay with us knowing full well that they were going to want to feed you and make sure you’re comfortable. So, Dipper, I promise, it’s really okay. Please stop sulking and walking ten feet behind me just because I paid for food that I am also, probably, going to eat.”

“They’re not ten feet away,” Greg pointed out.

“I’m exaggerating, Greg.”

“Oh.”

Dipper muttered under his breath, and Mabel laughed at him. “You are too sulking,” she argued, giggling again when he glared at her. “So what do you guys do all summer without crazy things everywhere?” she asked, bouncing ahead to take away Dipper’s excuse to hang back.

He glared at her again, but caught up to walk beside Wirt. It was preferable to staying away from him to bicker with his twin, but he still wasn’t entirely appeased. It would likely pick at him until he did either pay him back or bought something for him. For the moment, though, he shoved it aside. “I don’t really remember what we even did our last normal summer.”

Wirt grinned at him, bumping their shoulders together since it was all they could do with their arms full of groceries. “You and normal summer aren’t exactly two things that I can see going together.”

“I climb trees!” Greg piped up, facing forward once more. “And Mom and Dad sometimes take us to the beach. Oh! And to see Grandma and Grandpa. But a lot of times I’d spend the summer helping Old Lady Daniels with her house and yard. At least that’s what I did last summer.”

“You only did that when Jonathan was doing that summer music camp thing and she had to babysit you. Most of the time we took you to the park,” Wirt reminded him.

“Oh yeah! But you never played when we went. You sat under a tree and read all the time.” Greg beamed at Dipper. “Wirt reads so many books over the summer. That’s what he does.”

He grinned. “I do, too. I have a list.”

“Not even a mandatory list for school,” Mabel put in. She spun, her turn to walk backwards so she could join in the conversation. “He just makes one up. We should go to the park, though, and the beach. And meet Old Lady Daniels. And just do everything!”

“And camping!” Greg added. “Dad said we might go camping this summer for the first time ever! We should do that! It’ll be just like when we were in The Unknown, but better because nothing will try and turn us into trees! Right, Wirt?”

“Right, Greg,” he replied, though his smile was strained. He hoped nothing was out there that could turn them into trees. That was the absolute last thing he needed.

“We could build a fire like we did on your last night in Gravity Falls,” Mabel suggested, immediately up for the idea. “Just less burning clothes and more of me and Greg taking amazing candids.”

Dipper laughed. “I’m stealing your camera. You’re a freaking menace.”

“My camera and I are a fabulous pair, thank you.”

“I still don’t know how you managed to take so many pictures of us without us noticing,” Wirt snorted, shaking his head, then looked to Dipper. “I mean, she’s shown you, right? It’s insane!”

“It’s Mabel.”

“Scrapbookortunities cannot be wasted! It’s my duty to document every adorable, amazing thing that happens!”

Dipper rolled his eyes, but was smiling when he bumped their shoulders together. “But, yeah, I saw them. I may have printed out a couple of them.”

“Yeah… um… me too.” There was a light dusting of red spreading across his cheeks as he ducked his head.

“So Mabel bringing her camera is important.” Greg nodded seriously as they turned onto their street. “And essential. So you can have more pictures of yourselves.”

“So we can have pictures of all of us.” Since they were talking about it, Mabel shifted her bags to one wrist and retrieved her camera. She lifted it, snapped a quick shot of the three of them, and grinned. “Aw. My boys.”

“Here, um…” Wirt shifted his bags to one hand as well, though fumbled a bit more than Mabel had, holding his newly freed one out for the camera. “You should get to be in some of the pictures, too.”

She passed it over with a laugh. “How could I say no to that?”

“Now’s our chance, man. Keep it forever. The scrapbooks can die a long-awaited death.”

Mabel stuck out her tongue at her twin, then gasped when the shutter clicked. “Wirt, I wasn’t ready!”

“Oh. Sorry. Didn’t know that it was fine for you to take unexpected pictures of us, but we can’t of you.” He grinned at her. “Are you ready now?”

“You’re as much a brat as Dipper,” she accused, giggling. She fussed with her hair a bit, then grinned at the camera. “Okay, ready.” When the picture was taken, she reached out to take it back.

“Don’t do it,” Dipper warned. “We’ll all regret it.”

“You weren’t complaining when you framed the picture from the campground,” she sing-songed, hips swishing, and Dipper’s glare was dampened considerably by the blush that swept his cheeks.

Wirt’s smile softened and he leaned in to peck the corner of his mouth before handing over the camera. “Sorry, Dipper, but I need to evenly distribute the weight of the bags or my fingers will fall off.”

“Guess we can’t have that. It’d be really hard to hold your hand.”

“Priorities,” Mabel teased, then tapped Greg’s nose and winked at him before spinning to dart up the porch steps and speed into the house.

Greg laughed and ran after her, his shopping bag held it high over his head. Wirt shifted his bags with a dramatic groan, rolling his neck before flashing Dipper a smile. He headed up the porch steps, catching the front door with his foot before it slammed shut behind Greg.

“After you,” he told him after a few hops to get the door to open wider. “And Mom’s probably gonna have me make the garlic bread, but if you hang out with me in the kitchen, I’ll make sure you get the best pieces.”

“Dude. Yes. Because, y’know, I flew across the country for garlic bread. I definitely wouldn’t hang out with you otherwise,” he teased, pausing only briefly to brush their lips together before walking in.

“I thought that might be the case.” Wirt laughed.

The house was already filled with the aroma of warm pasta shells and a thick, cheese sauce. Amy was stirring a pot on the stove, Mabel and Greg emptying their bags into the fridge and pantry. Wirt squeezed in and made a space for himself amid the whirlwind of their siblings. The oven was already pre-heating for the macaroni and cheese, so he’d be able to slide the bread in whenever.

“Hey, guys,” Amy greeted. “How was the store?”

“Good. Pretty sure we got everything we need and more,” Wirt replied, setting the bread aside.

“We got graham crackers to make s’mores!” Greg piped up.

“Well, that’s definitely in the ‘need’ category,” she chuckled, spooning the pasta into a casserole dish.

Greg nodded. “That’s what Mabel and I said.”

“Absolutely! Who can go a whole summer without s’mores? Not this girl!” She peeked at the stove. “That looks like cheese heaven in a pot. Please do not ask Dipper to stir. He’ll ruin it. He’ll set the house on fire and ruin it before I can eat it, and that’s just a crime.”

“Hey!”

“Oh, come on. I’m sure he can’t be that bad,” Wirt defended, siding with his boyfriend despite not really ever having seen him cook. In Gravity Falls, Mabel did most of the cooking. Wirt rarely saw Dipper do more than pour himself a glass of juice or grab a soda from the fridge.

“Well, unfortunately we won’t be finding out today since there is no more stirring to be done,” Amy replied, sprinkling cheese and bread crumbs over the top.

“I’d let you stir.” Wirt bumped his hip to Dipper’s.

“Enjoy that, Dipper. You’ll never hear it again once he knows the truth.”

“Shut up, Mabel.” But he laughed and waved a hand, accepting of this particular fault. He was a busy guy; he didn’t have time to wait for water to boil or whatever else happened in a kitchen. “I am kind of awful at cooking. Not _that_ bad, but pretty awful.”

“Well, you can be awful and still manage to stir.” Wirt sliced the bread in half, then went to grab the garlic and some herbs from the pantry. “Does your pretty awful-ness extend to getting the butter for me from the fridge?” he asked with a laugh.

“Oh my god, Mabel, do you see what you started?” Dipper accused, fetching the butter as requested. He blinked at it. “Wait, do you need the whole box or, like, a stick?”

“A stick. I’m pretty much just buttering the bread.” He grinned at him.

Greg bounced over Dipper. “I’d use a whole box to butter bread.”

“And that’s why you’re not the one who’s making this,” Wirt informed him. “Why don’t you set the table, Greg?”

“I can do that!” he agreed to the task easily.

Not entirely sure if he shouldn’t just help Greg, Dipper grabbed one of the sticks and set it down next to the ingredients Wirt had gathered. “This can only end in disaster,” Mabel predicted, and the glare he aimed at her had a pout attached.

She stuck out her tongue, then began opening cupboards to find dishes.

“Oh, Mabel, thank you, but you and Dipper can relax and the boys will handle it. You did have a long flight.” Amy nodded to them both, then checked over Wirt’s shoulder to make sure he was mixing the right amount of garlic and herbs - to which he rolled his eyes.

The twins blinked at her, then looked at each other. There was a lot of head shaking and nodding, a few shrugs, and then Dipper held up a hand. “Wait. I think we’re agreeing.”

“I think so too.”

“We want to help,” was said in unison.

“I mean, we’re gonna be here, like, a whole month.”

“If we don’t help out, that’d be so rude and you’ll never let us come back!”

“I’ll help Greg.”

“Good. Let’s not break the kitchen our first day,” Mabel teased, and swept over to Wirt to watch.

“Oh my god, shut up.” Dipper swung Greg onto his shoulders. “Where are the plates?”

“Cupboard to the left, Admiral Dipper!” The younger boy directed, pointing over his head. “I bet we can set the table before Wirt and Mabel get the bread in the oven!”

Undoubtedly since they had the easier job, but Dipper just laughed and retrieved the dishes. This was a kitchen activity he was familiar with. He placed the six plates, then returned to the cupboards. “Cups.”

“Above Wirt’s head!” Greg giggled.

Wirt glanced back at them, then placed one hand on the cupboard to block it, struggling to butter with one hand and nothing to brace the bread with, but it was worth it to hinder them if only for a moment. “Let’s see you set the table now.”

“That’s cheating and two can play at that game.” He set Greg directly onto the counter and twisted his hat around. “Get the cups, corporal. I’ll distract him.” Without giving Wirt a chance to think, he grabbed the wrist holding the knife to avoid any accidental stabbings and spun him, capturing his lips.

Mabel bit back the giggles, promptly fetching her camera. Dorks.

The unexpectedness of it pretty much had him swooning, but he was trying really hard to be more annoyed than flustered. The color to his cheeks traitorous as he tilted his head away, breaking the kiss. “Dipper, that’s way more unfair,” he complained, glowering when the plastic cups went flying over head.

“Catch, Mabel! Join our side, it’s better!” Greg chirped.

She caught them, letting the giggles burst out. “Got it! Sorry, Wirt. Always join the winning side!”

Dipper cupped his cheeks, his laugh spilling into the next kiss. “Silverware, corporal! We’re almost there.”

Stubborn, Wirt clamped his lips shut and refused to kiss back. Of course, it only resulted in his face scrunching up, nose wrinkling in the process, which probably didn’t help his case any. Not to mention he’d been completely abandoned on the battlefield.

Well, if he was going down, then he was taking someone with him. With the hand not holding the knife, he prodded Dipper in the stomach. He’d give him a chance to back off first, but if that didn’t scare him off, then he’d be left with no choice.

“Uh oh,” Greg was saying, and Wirt smiled inwardly, “we’re missing a fork! Mom, where is it?”

“Sorry, honey. I’m just a casual bystander in this war.”

“Check the dishwasher!” Mabel suggested, setting the cups on the table.

Dipper started to let go, to jump back, but a missing fork put a hitch in the battle strategy. He grabbed Wirt’s wrist instead. “Hang on, not that, oh my god.”

“You kinda asked for it,” Wirt replied, twisting his wrist in his grasp while Greg rifled through the dishwasher. He made sure his other hand was over the counter before he dropped the knife, just to be safe, and tried to wiggle free. His fingers came dangerously close to brushing Dipper’s sides. “But it doesn’t have to end this way.”

He took a partial step back, unable to hide his grin. “Definitely didn’t ask for this.”

“Tickle him, Wirt!”

His head snapped up, gaze darting to the side. “Mabel, whose side are you on?!”

“The winning side,” Wirt grinned, taking his distraction as the perfect opportunity to tickle him, one hand grabbing at his waist to hold him back while the other dug into his side.

“ _Wirt_!” Dipper squeaked, body unsure if it wanted to curl away or stiffen. Either way, when he tried to jump back he only tripped over himself and fell, dragging Wirt down with him.

Aside from a small, “ow,” when they landed on the floor, Wirt was laughing as he let his weight pin Dipper down. “Your choices are surrender or join my side or this,” his fingers played over his stomach like it was a piano, “so, what’s it gonna be?”

“You can take him, Dipper!” Greg had the utmost faith in him as he washed the fork he’d found in the dishwasher at the sink. “Give him the ol’ kickeroo!”

He wasn’t coordinated enough for that, unable to do much more than wriggle and grasp Wirt’s sweater as he was tickled. Really, he would’ve just given in entirely if not for Greg. “I’m no traitor!” he exclaimed instead.

Wirt hummed thoughtfully. “Okay then. Suit yourself.” It was difficult with all the wiggling he was doing, but Wirt did his best to keep his hands under Dipper’s vest and around his stomach and sides.

The water from the sink shut off and Greg dried the fork before grabbing it and the others to make a mad dash for the dining room, only to be effectively blocked. “Hey! You guys are in the way!”

“All part of my master plan.” Wirt looked up from Dipper to grin at him.

Since sibling distractions was a two-way street, Dipper used Wirt’s to roll. Ending up right back under him hadn’t been part of the plan, but he was laughing too much to really care. Cheeks flushed, eyes bright, he called out, “Go, corporal, go!”

Greg made a break for it and Wirt sat up to try and grab at him, but he’d only just missed him as he hopped past. He huffed when his little brother got cocky and paused halfway to the dining room to look back at him and stick his tongue out at him. Turning to fix his unimpressed expression on Dipper, his heart stuttered while his own face flooded with color at the sight and sound of him completely let go. Before he really realized it, he ducked his head and pressed their lips together quickly. He may have lost, just him alone since Mabel undoubtedly changed sides again, but it was kinda worth it.

Dipper let out a small sound, not having expected that, but he was quick to kiss back. Giddy from both the tickling and the victory, this only added another layer. His fingers uncurled from the front of his sweater, one curling in the back and the other tangling in his hair. He did like that, clinging to him, keeping him in place as though he could make him stay forever.

He broke the kiss smiling. “Good to know you’re not a sore loser.”

“Well, it’s kinda hard to be one when I feel like a winner,” he admitted with a shy smile of his own. He didn’t want to make Dipper break his hold on him, but they were sprawled on the kitchen floor still and he was running out of time to get the bread in the oven before the rest of dinner was ready. Sliding off him, he pushed up to his feet and held a hand out to help Dipper up. “Go grab a victory soda from the fridge and celebrate with your team.”

Dipper left their hands clasped a moment longer than necessary, using his free one to twist his hat back into place. “What do you want to drink? I can handle that at least.”

Wirt hummed, adjusting the bill of his cap for him a little. “I’m feeling kind of adventurous. I think I’ll have one of yours.”

“Nice.” He gave his hand a squeeze before releasing him, turning towards the fridge. “Hurry up with the garlic bread, okay? Even losers who feel like winners should celebrate.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be there soon.” He almost lifted his hand to wave, but caught his own hand and wrung them together while he turned back to the garlic bread. Exhaling quietly, he hurried to finish the spread. He vaguely heard the microwave start, his mom steaming some vegetables most likely, then felt her hand squeeze his shoulder. His gaze flicked up and he managed a small, half-smile.

She nodded towards the bread. “I’ll finish that. You go celebrate.”

Wirt hesitated a moment, but she slid the bread away from him so he nodded, face lighting up. “Thanks, Mom. Not just for this, but- you know. Thank you.”

“Oh, Wirt. You’re welcome.” She gave his cheek a pat. “I’m just glad to see you so happy. Really. Enjoy this time you have with him. With both of them.” She nodded towards the dining room where Greg could be heard peppering the twins with questions. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, Mom.” When she waved him away, Wirt left the kitchen, passing Jonathan on the way to joining the rest of the Mystery Best Friends.

He lifted an eyebrow at the smile on Wirt’s face, then looked to Amy. “So, what’d I miss?”

 

\----

 

“Thanks for dinner, Mom!” Greg beamed at her after his plate had been more or less licked clean.

It was a little bit crowded in the Palmer-Whelan dining room, but the family made it work. The twins were tucked in with Wirt on one side and Greg on the other - and technically Jason Funderburker as well. The frog was perched in Greg’s lap despite the usual dinnertime rules. Apparently Amy was willing to wave it off this one time. And by this one time, Jonathan was sure to tell Dipper and Mabel when she was up getting a refill, she really meant about the seventieth-some-odd time.

“You’re welcome, Greg. And you, too, Jason Funderburker,” she added when the frog croaked, then focused on her youngest again. “When your brother’s finished, why don’t you help him with the dishes?”

Greg’s bright smile faded in an instant. “Aw, beans. But Wirt always makes me dry.”

“Because you never scrub hard enough to get the food pieces off,” Wirt reminded him.

“How am I supposed to focus on scrubbing when there’s a sink full of bubbles to play with?” Greg wanted to know.

“And that’s why I make you dry.”

Mabel giggled, ruffling his hair fondly, but caught her twin’s eye and tilted her head. He blinked at her, following her glance, and shrugged. He lifted his fist and she did the same and they did a silent round of rock-paper-scissors. Victorious, Mabel hopped up and started gathering dishes.

Dipper couldn’t help but brush a kiss to Wirt’s temple when he rose to help her. “We’ll handle them.”

“We want to,” Mabel added. “You cooked.”

“And you bought our food.”

“And you’re letting us stay!”

Arms full of dishes, their rapid fire delivery leaving no room for argument, the twins bolted for the kitchen and immediately started bickering over the results of rock-paper-scissors. Two out of three was met with giggling ridicule.

Amy and Jonathan blinked at each other, both at a loss as to what just happened. Greg, on the other hand, accepted this decision wholeheartedly and hopped down from his seat with Jason Funderburker in his arms.

“So, if I don’t have to help with dishes, can I go watch TV?” he asked.

Wirt muffled a soft chuckle with his hand while his step-dad looked to his mom to answer and she looked at him to. “I… I guess that’s fine,” Jonathan replied. “But your bedtime is the same as usual. Even if Wirt, Dipper, and Mabel are staying up, that doesn’t mean bedtime is waived for you.”

“Okay,” Greg agreed, a little too easily Wirt noted, but their parents still seemed relatively baffled that the dishes had disappeared so suddenly. And so eagerly.

Wirt eased out of his chair, gesturing towards the kitchen as he sidestepped in its direction. “I’ll go uh… I’ll show them where things go if the drying rack gets too full.”

“Have fun with that,” Greg told him sincerely, the younger brother darting into the living room while the older one ducked into the kitchen.

Dipper saw him first, perched on the counter next to the drying rack, and grinned. Mabel glanced over her shoulder, the sink already filling with water and bubbles. “You didn’t get sent in here to help us, did you?”

“He doesn’t have Greg, so probably not,” Dipper mused.

Wirt shrugged a little. “Nah. Mom and Jonathan are still absorbing the fact that our nightly fisticuffs over dishes didn’t occur. I just came in to act as… I guess as a guide? If you need to know where things go.” He leaned against the counter next to Dipper, bracing his hands on it as he debated hopping up as well. “Greg escaped to watch TV.”

“Okay. I told Dipdop to scope the cabinets, but he just sat his dumb butt on the counter.”

“Hey. Take dishes, wash dishes, dry dishes, leave in drying rack until someone else puts them away. Foolproof plan.”

She giggled, turning off the water and plucking up a rag to start cleaning a plate. “They’re not annoyed or anything, right? Your parents?” It wasn’t her question, and Dipper gave her a slight smile in appreciation for treating it like it was. “Dipper and I just always do dishes.”

“No way.” Wirt flashed her a smile, failing at his first attempt to sit on the counter, but managed on the second try. “Seriously. If you guys keep this up, they’re going to want to replace Greg and I with you. They just don’t want you guys to feel like you have to earn your keep or whatever. They want you to be comfortable here and… well, I do, too.”

“See? Told you.” Mabel flicked water at her brother, who immediately shifted closer to Wirt in a pitiful attempt to get away.

Appreciation had immediately vanished, color rising and eyes rolling skywards. “It’s not about earning our keep or whatever. It’s just, y’know, what we’re used to. We’re used to having stuff to do. We _want_ stuff to do.”

All teasing aside for the moment, Mabel nodded and passed over the cleaned plate to be dried. “It is true. We keep busy.”

“Fair enough. Can’t argue with that.” Wirt casually, or at least attempted to be casual about it, let their thighs touch and knees brush together. “Remember where the plates are, admiral?”

“Well, yeah, but, you know.” He dropped the freshly dried plate onto the rack. “I’m here to dry dishes, not put them away.” Which was most of the reason behind sitting on the counter. “We still need to hang up those clocks, too, so these can just hang around.”

Wirt laughed, leaning in to press his lips to his cheek before hopping down. “That’s not gonna take long. I just need to grab some hooks from the junk drawer and we’re pretty much set,” he replied as he took the plate and placed it in its rightful cupboard. “Well… and a drill and anchor. Probably.”

“Okay. So you get all that, and I’ll sit here drying and not putting dishes away. Reconvene in your room? Just, like, don’t hang them up without me. They’re going on your wall, but they’re mine too.”

Mabel aww’d and was glared at.

It made Wirt’s cheeks color, but he nodded just the same. They were their clocks. He cleared his throat, abandoning the task of putting away dishes as he went to grab some extra hooks from the drawer closest to the opening of the kitchen and farthest from the sink. He pocketed two as he glanced back at the twins.

“See you when you’re done, then.” He rocked on his heels, then left to start exploring the garage in search of Jonathan’s toolbox.

Mabel was quiet for a few minutes while they went through a familiar routine in unfamiliar surroundings. “You already look better.”

He glanced at her, covering a yawn. Though they were now three hours ahead of where they’d been the night before, his lack of sleep was starting to tug at him. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean, Dipdop.” She dried off her hands, sidestepping to poke his cheeks. “Whomp whomp.”

He smiled at the familiar gesture, a little surprised when she cupped his cheeks to hold him in place when he tried to lean away. “Mabel-”

“Are you going to tell him about the nightmares?”

“What? Come on. I’m not-”

“Dipper!”

He pressed his lips together, the heels of his feet whapping the lower cabinets. “I... I don’t know, okay? Not tonight. We’re here. I’m with him. They’re probably going to go away, so I don’t want to bother him. Not tonight, at least. It’s our first day.”

“You need to talk about them to somebody,” she insisted.

He grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands away. “Not tonight. Leave it alone, Mabel. Just... Leave it alone.”

She didn’t want to. She wanted to pester him into it. She wanted him to tell her what was wrong, and what was going through his stupid head. But there were some pains her twin wouldn’t share, no matter how close they got. As much as she wanted to pester and prod and try to help, she went back to the sink to resume the self-appointed chore. He would tell Wirt eventually. “Sure thing, bro-bro.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tickle fights are the greatest. All hail.


	5. Chapter 5

The nightmares did go away. Their third morning, Dipper was well-rested to the point of being unfamiliar with the feeling. Keeping Wirt cocooned between his own body and the wall of ticking clocks would normally have made him restless upon waking. He normally had a dozen things to do, to think about, to plan. But there wasn’t anything more pressing to do than doze the morning away, his nose nestled in Wirt’s messy hair and his arms wrapped around him as he waited for him to wake up.

Not a morning person, his Wirt. It made him smile and press a light kiss to the top of his head. He didn’t have to be, really, not when Dipper was. Not when Dipper enjoyed feeling the first stirrings of wakefulness in his snuggly boyfriend.

Wirt curled into him, nuzzling into the soft, familiar cocoon around him. He wiggled a bit, face scrunching as he fought to keep his eyes closed while his arms wound around the chest pressed to his, fingers gripping his shirt at his back to hold and keep him. When they’d shared a bed in Gravity Falls, they didn’t get slow, sleepy mornings like this. It was a luxury of sorts that Wirt was eager to take advantage of for as long as Dipper would let him.

He rubbed his cheek against his shoulder. “You’re still here,” he murmured.

“Yeah.” Dipper’s smile widened. “Just waiting for you.”

“Mm… that can’t be much fun.” Without opening his eyes, his lips found Dipper’s neck and brushed lazy kisses against it. “Sorry for making you wait.”

“That’s okay.” He shivered a little, rubbing a fist between Wirt’s shoulder blades. “You’re worth it.”

Arching into the touch, Wirt made a pleased sound. As happy as he was to keep lying there, cuddling to his heart’s content before wakefulness brought hesitation and second-guessing and flusteredness along with it, he wanted to look at Dipper and felt his boyfriend had been confined to the bed for long enough. He tipped his head back, blinking slowly to minimize the harsh onslaught of light. There wasn’t that much, as his window luckily did not face east, but it was more than what had been behind closed eyelids.

Not to mention, he was staring directly at the sun. “‘Morning.”

It was adorable. He was just adorable, and Dipper didn’t quite know what to do with the way this sleepy bundle of cute made his heart skip. He ended up laughing softly, pressing a lingering kiss to sleepy lips. “Good morning.”

Wirt smiled at the sound of his laugh. “You know, if mornings were always like this, I’d definitely be a morning person.”

“But then you wouldn’t wake up all lazily adorable. That’s kind of important.” He kissed him again, unable to resist the smile. “But I’d be okay with waking up with you every morning if you were grumpy or adorable or whatever.”

“Even if I’m grumpy? Wow, that’s dedication.” Wirt laughed, scrunching his nose as he squirmed a little, pushing the covers down some since it was hot and he was still unwilling to untangle himself from Dipper.

When he was satisfied with the amount of blankets pooled at their waists, he returned to snuggling, bare arms brushing as he wrapped himself around Dipper, to create a cocoon for him in return. The t-shirt he’d given him that day at the pool had become his sleep shirt for pretty much every night since he’d come home, not even caring that it meant having to do a lot more laundry than he really needed to in order to keep wearing it. It didn’t match his pajama bottoms, but the fabric was soft and it was Dipper’s and that was enough for him.

Dipper skipped light, playful kisses over his face. “What, would you not want to wake up with me if I was grumpy? I’m offended,” he teased, lightly nipping at his bottom lip. “So seriously offended,” was mumbled into a firmer kiss.

Wirt’s giggles faded into a happy sigh and he cupped his face, thumbs skimming over his cheeks as he deepened the kiss, his tongue the one to flit over Dipper’s lips. “That’s exactly right,” he paused to breathe and rub their noses together. “Grumpy you is just too much for me to handle.”

He laughed again, rolling onto his back and bringing Wirt with him. It was early enough and he was amused enough to just say it. “Good thing you're pretty great at making me happy.”

“Yeah?” Wirt pushed himself up a bit, sleep steadily fading as his eyes became clearer, hopeful and hints of his shy hesitance and disbelief flickering in them before he blinked both back and relaxed against Dipper again. He wasn’t ready to be fully awake. He wanted to enjoy this moment for as long as he could. His lips returned to leaving light kisses on his neck and along his jaw. “I think that might be my crowning achievement then. I can live with that.”

“Mm. I can too, all things considered.” He threaded his fingers through his hair, humming contentedly. “I can't remember the last time I didn't have anything better to do than lay in bed.”

“Well, get used to it. Apparently I’m worth it.” Wirt let their brows rest together before angling it to be on his pillow, eyes closing as the gentle petting continued and a sound almost akin to a purr slipped out. “We can get up whenever you want though. I know you’re a busy guy. I’m sure there’s something else you could be doing.”

He was like an adorable affectionate kitten, Dipper decided, heart fluttering in his chest. He didn’t quite know how to handle this side of him, but it was just another piece for him to fall in love with. Another piece of the fascinating puzzle that was Wirt.

“I don’t know. Mabel and Greg ran by about ten minutes ago, cheering about chocolate chip waffles and leftover cupcakes, but I’m not really ready to move yet.” His free hand stroked his back, Dipper completely willing to cuddle with and pet him all day. “I think you’re... You’re sweeter than any cupcake.”

Color blossomed in his cheeks as he opened his eyes. “Oh my gosh. Did you really just-? _Dipper_.” He buried his face in his pillow while he hugged him, his embarrassed groan turning into a small laugh.

Dipper laughed, nuzzling him. “Yep. I am just that lame. Deal with it.”

“No, it’s not lame, it’s just- gosh. I still can’t handle it when you say stuff like that. You’re the one who’s sweet.” He lifted his head, blush still evident even as he smiled at him. “Maybe not as sweet as those cupcakes though. Those were pretty sweet, after all.”

“Mabel’s a sugar addict, and you’re not any better. You had _four_.” He pressed amused kisses to each reddened cheek.

Wirt grinned. “Hey, I never said I wasn’t a sugar addict. I like sweet things.” When Dipper leaned back from his last kiss, Wirt claimed one from his lips. “Obviously.”

“Okay, yeah, see- Man.” His own blush rose, and Dipper could only kiss him again.

“Just giving you a taste of your own medicine,” Wirt hummed against his lips, content to let this kiss turn into a second and third.

“We’re going to end up with some serious cavities,” Dipper teased.

It would be so easy to just kiss Wirt for the rest of the morning, the week, the month, his lifetime. But it was only a few minutes before his unlockable door was swung open. “We need some taste-testers!” Mabel announced. “The waffles need something, but I can’t figure it out.”

With a gasp, Wirt slid off of Dipper and tugged at the blankets as he sat up to gape at Mabel. “Wh-what? Taste- um… taste the waffles? Yeah, okay, sure,” he babbled, willing the redness in his cheeks to recede.

She giggled at them. “I can’t believe you’re both still in bed. The morning’s wasting away!”

Dipper glanced at Wirt, ran his tongue along his bottom lip. “I wouldn’t say wasting.”

That didn’t help his blush in the slightest. If anything his face was on fire now. He grabbed his pillow and pushed it in Dipper’s face as he forced a smile for Mabel. “We’re getting up now. We’ll be right there.”

While Dipper laughed, Mabel gave him a thumbs-up. “Okay! See you soon!” she cheered and sped away.

Her twin tugged the pillow away. “Jerk,” he accused, grinning.

“Sorry! Sorry, your face just…” Wirt hunched his shoulders up, smiling sheepishly. “You killed my brain and I wasn’t in my right mind?” he tried.

“You're literally the best.” Dipper smacked the pillow to Wirt's chest before rolling out of bed. “Come on. You know we've got five minutes before she's back in here.”

With a sigh, Wirt hugged the pillow and flopped back on the bed. “Yeah. I know. And Greg will be with her. Ready to jump on us.” He watched Dipper stand and stretch appreciatively, then realized he was basically ogling him and hid his own face with the pillow before he could be caught.

“How did we both manage to land crazy siblings?” he wondered, glancing back with an easy smile. It evolved into a laugh immediately, noting the pillow, and he grabbed his hat off the bedpost. It was tugged on before he wandered to Wirt’s dresser to find some clothes for the day, which was just the opposite from his habits during Wirt’s week in Gravity Falls. It was the habit he’d adopted out of fresh paranoia, though, and was just a small incident away from sleeping in the thing. He knew it, knew it was pathetic, but didn’t know how to stop it. It was easier to just go with it and ignore it. No need to stress over it.

He dug out a pair of jeans from the dresser, then snagged a t-shirt out of the closet - heart fluttering as it tended to do when he caught a glimpse of his shirts hung beside collared shirts and sweaters. He reached for his vest as well, his summer habits well-ingrained, but paused. Did he need it? Did he need the giant pockets to carry his journals and tools?

No, he didn’t. There weren’t monsters to chase here or any other paranormal oddity to document. If he wanted to write something down, one of his small notebooks would suffice and those fit in the back pocket of his jeans. There was nothing more pressing or important to do than wait for his boyfriend to wake up for cuddles and have waffles for breakfast. The whole day stretched forward like a blank canvas.

He stepped away from his vest, letting his hand fall. “I’m gonna go get dressed and head to the kitchen, okay?”

Wirt stiffened a bit, almost going back to hiding in the pillow as he watched Dipper putter about his room. “Y-yeah. Okay,” he replied, gaze flitting to his hat.

While not an unusual addition - it was more unusual when he wasn’t wearing it - it was unusual that he put it on before taking off his sleep clothes and putting on the ones for the rest of the day. It just seemed a bit… counterproductive? Was that the word? Wirt turned it around in his head as he sat up and put his pillow back.

“I’ll, uh. I’ll be out in a minute.” He raked his hands through his hair, took one glance at the mirror and made a face at himself. Talk about someone who needed a hat in the morning. But still… “Hey. Um. Is… how are you feeling?” he asked. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Dipper grinned, the bundle of clothes tucked under his arm as he shrugged. “Still trying to get used to the idea of a normal summer, you know? I’m used to having a million things to do, and now there’s just spending time with you and Greg and that’s basically it.”

Wirt fidgeted for a moment, then relaxed. “Yeah. Yeah, I get that. Maybe we’ll have to find a way to fix that and give you something to do,” he laughed a little.

Like a second date. A second date could be something to do. He’d been turning ideas over in his head for the past couple of days, uncertain about what they could do that could somehow even hope to compare to the beauty of their first date. Whatever it ended up being, Wirt definitely decided that it should be some kind of all day thing, to give Dipper something to occupy his mind. But what?

“You know this place better than I do, so I’ll just have to put myself in your capable hands. Don’t let me down, man.” It was said with the grin still on his face before he strode out of the room to dress in the bathroom and leave Wirt to his privacy at least for a few minutes.

“Yeah…” he murmured, then sighed.

It was teasing, yes, but the weight of his words still pressed on his shoulders. Dipper did so much for him just by existing, how could he hope to even come close to that? Wirt smacked his pillow, pretending it was just to even out the creases. Well, he’d try. He had more research to do, to pick a place, something to do, but he was looking forward to it. He wanted to go on another date. Just the two of them.

Wirt carefully pulled off Dipper’s t-shirt and folded it up, setting it on his dresser and he rifled around for his clothes. He got dressed just in time. When he opened the door to head for the kitchen, he was met with Greg and Jason Funderburker, the former ready to tap out some kind of beat on the door.

“Come on, Wirt! I want waffles and Mabel said we had to wait until you and Dipper taste test them.” Greg wasted no time latching onto his hand and dragging him down the hall. “Your hair’s still a mess, by the way.”

“I’m aware, Greg. You didn’t exactly give me time to grab my comb.”

“Combs can wait. Waffles are the future.”

“I think you mean the present, but okay.”

The kitchen was a mess. Bowls and silverware were stacked in the sink, ingredients laying opened and scattered across the countertops. When all was said and done, Mabel would scrub and have the entire place cleaned in minutes, but while the process was on-going, no surface was safe from clutter. Not even her face, which had a Greg-sized flour handprint prominently displayed on the cheek.

In the middle of it, Dipper tore off a corner piece of the waffle his sister had given him and popped it into his mouth since that seemed to be the only safe thing to do. “I don’t know. I think they’re fine.”

“I think I need a little bit more cocoa. Or maybe a pinch of salt to take the edge off.”

“I think they’re fine,” he repeated.

Wirt scooped Greg up and set him on a relatively clean spot on the counter - probably where he’d been sitting before to help - and accepted the waffle Mabel offered to him. He pulled it into two pieces, handing one to Greg because he was watching him like a hawk, then bit into it. Considering it a moment, he flicked his gaze to the younger boy to gauge his reaction.

“Cocoa,” they both said.

“If you feel the need to add anything,” Wirt continued with a shrug. “They taste really good already, but if you’re not satisfied then I think you should go with more cocoa.”

“Thank you! See? This is what happens when someone who cooks helps me.” She gestured at them, sticking her tongue out at her brother when his eyes rolled.

“You’re missing the part where he basically said they were fine, just like what I said.”

“But he was helpful, Mr. Smarty-pants.” She gauged a teaspoon of cocoa by eye, the one dish not piled around being a measuring implement of some sort, and quickly stirred. “I think I should move in with Greg and Wirt and let them be my new brothers. You can be an only child.”

Dipper snorted. “Okay.”

“Why can’t Dipper move in, too?” Greg asked, scooping up a handful of chocolate chips to offer to the male twin. “We can all be family, then. Even if he can’t cook.”

Mabel bit her lip to stifle her burst of laughter, but couldn’t quite contain it. “Because Wirt and Dipper probably shouldn’t be brothers.”

It only took a beat for that to sink in and Dipper managed to choke on a chocolate chip. “ _Wow_. Wow. Oh my god. Wow. Conversation over. Wow.”

Mabel had to set the bowl on the counter or risk dropping it, doubling over as the laugh spilled out.

Greg blinked, then looked at Wirt who’d gone bright red, then looked back at Mabel. “No, they wouldn’t be brothers. They could just get married. Like Mom and Dad, then they’d be family and I’d get a new brother _and_ a new sister.”

“Okay, Greg. That’s enough sugar for you.” Wirt picked him up to set him on the floor. “Admiral Dipper said the conversation’s over.”

Mabel had to wipe her eyes, tears threatening as the giggles still wracked her body. “Don’t worry, Greg, I can be your honorary sister until then.”

“Oh my god, shut up. Just... just shut up. Are you done with the batter now? Can we just, like, have breakfast and you can just stop?”

“You don’t want to be my brother, Dipper?” Greg pouted as Wirt pushed him out of the kitchen.

“That’s not what he’s saying. Go sit at the table until the waffles are done.”

“ _You_ sit at the table!”

“I’m getting drinks and syrup. You’re sitting.”

“Yeah, no, I-” Dipper pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, trying to figure out how his sister had managed to completely mortify him in the space of two seconds. Except, well, it was Mabel. Explanation discovered.

He followed them into the dining room and plucked up the mutinous Greg, mouthing an embarrassed “sorry” to Wirt over his head. “Look, I would totally be your brother, okay? You’re the coolest kid, Greg.”

“Really?” Greg perked up instantly.

Wirt had to roll his eyes, but when he and Dipper made eye contact again, he offered him a small smile and a shrug. _What can you do?_ As long as no one brought up any part of their previous conversation aside from Greg’s completely innocent notion of gaining more siblings just for the sake of having the best playmates ever, then he was fine with Dipper’s save. Anything was better than a mutinous Greg, after all.

“Yes, really. Now sit, okay?” Dipper deposited him into his normal chair and ruffled his hair. “You helped Mabel cook, so Wirt and I’ll set the table.”

“Okay,” he agreed, amiable enough.

Wirt shook his head, waiting for Dipper to join him before bumping their shoulders together. “Thanks. I know it was- I mean the whole- yeah. Just thanks.”

“Yeah. I’m going to kill Mabel. Just so you know. I’ll need an alibi.”

“Sure thing. I'll even help you hide the body.” Wirt chuckled, heading back into the kitchen to grab the plates.

Dipper patted his chest just over his heart, grinning. “Aw. That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

Mabel glanced over her shoulder at that, then rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to setting the kitchen to rights while waffles cooked in the iron. She only gasped when her hair was suddenly flipped. “Dipper!”

“You deserved it.”

“Bleh.” She parted the strands, aiming to brush the mass of curls back again, but ended up gasping again. “You got flour in my hair!”

“You deserved it,” he repeated and just barely dodged her elbow when it shot back.

“You brat! I have to take another shower now!”

“Why?”

“Because you got flour in my hair, you dunce!”

He shrugged, heading to grab cups out of the cabinet. “Brush it out?”

“You’re so _gross_!”

Wirt laughed, pushing the plates into Dipper's hands so he'd have something to occupy himself instead of getting more flour on his sister. “At least you'll only have to rinse?” he attempted to console her. She did have a lot of hair, and he did not envy that in the slightest. “What do you guys want to drink?” he asked while getting the milk out for Greg.

“You boys have no idea how lucky you are,” she said dramatically, pushing her hair away. The timer went off, so she flipped open the iron and transferred the first waffle to a tray. Batter was poured into it for the second waffle as she continued, almost speaking to herself as she lamented. “Wirt doesn’t even have to brush his hair to look cute. And Dipper never has to bother because of his stupid hat.”

“It’s not stupid,” he defended.

“Shush. I’m monologuing.”

“Your monologue is awful.” She threw a spoon at him, and he ducked, laughing, only to be hit in between the eyes by the second spoon. “Freakin’-”

“Go set the table, brat.”

“Guys, if you’re gonna throw spoons, do it somewhere where I’m not in the vicinity, please?” Wirt shook his head, handling the drinks for himself and Greg. “Plus, I know the kitchen is already a mess, but do we really want more to clean up?”

“Well, since I’m the one who’s cleaning it, that’s up to me,” Mabel reasoned, smile bright since she’d managed to hit her target. “But I’m done. We’re even.”

“Yeah,” Dipper agreed, shifting the plates to one arm to pick up the thrown spoons. They were tossed towards the sink. “Orange juice, by the way.”

“Milk for me, thanks!” As if they hadn’t argued at all, the twins split into their assigned duties with matching grins, Mabel putting away ingredients while waffles cooked and Dipper setting places on the dining room table.

Wirt arched an eyebrow, then sighed and retrieved two more glasses. At least he’d already gotten the orange juice out for himself. He set their drinks on the table, then helped Dipper with the silverware, noting that Greg had taken to amusing himself by playing Simon Says with Jason Funderburker while they waited.

“Simon says… blink.” Their frog blinked. “Simon says… croak!” _Ro-rop_. “Simon says say ‘double double toil and trouble!’” Silence followed. “Well, it was worth a shot.”

“‘Fire burn and cauldron bubble,’” Wirt continued the line, then paused in the middle of setting down a fork. “Huh. What made you say that, Greg?”

His brother shrugged. “Mm-mm-mm. Jason Funderburker feels like being a witch today. He’s already got the warts, see?”

“Yeah… right. Hm. Hang on. I’ll be right back.” His eyes had that slightly faraway look to them when he started thinking about things that weren’t rooted in the here and now, Greg noticed, as Wirt left the dining room to retreat down the hall.

“What about waffles?” he called, “They’re almost done!”

“Start without me!”

Dipper blinked, started after him, but Mabel called. With a huff, he went into the kitchen instead and was dragged into helping her clean. He wouldn’t be gone for that long.

Wirt was actually gone longer than he expected, the flash of inspiration just enough to have him looking up a city north of Lakeville, considering the possibilities. There was a lot to consider, after all. There were tours they could take, or just explore on their own if they wanted, plus there was a ton of history to the place that was sure to keep Dipper’s mind spinning. Maybe. He was pretty sure it would be a place he’d want to go.

The more he looked it up, the more Wirt really hoped he’d want to go. The idea of spending the day there, just the two of them, made his heart skip and stomach flutter. He checked the train schedule, smiling to himself when he found something that would totally work for them. They’d have to leave a little bit early, but it would be worth waking up for.

If Dipper wanted to go, that is. He leaned back in the computer chair, spinning himself from side to side as he pursed his lips. Should it be a surprise? Wirt’s brow furrowed as he stared at the time table for the train from Lakeville. He wouldn’t be able to relax on the train ride not knowing if Dipper would actually want to go. The surprise first date had worked because it was basically free and within biking distance and Wirt didn’t really have any expectations since the date itself hadn’t been confirmed until they got there. Okay. He’d ask him. So it wouldn’t be a surprise, but it would be better for both of them if he was just as in the loop. It was still Wirt’s plan. His suggestion.

It was still their second date.

His stomach growled, aching for him to eat something and ultimately what pried him away from the computer. Wirt’s cheeks colored when he returned to the dining room to find that Greg had already finished not only his first helping of waffles, but also his second, as had Mabel. And he’d also taken it upon himself to drink Wirt’s orange juice.

Still, he couldn’t be mad about that, not when he had other more pressing things on his mind. “Sorry, guys. Didn’t mean to get so caught up in…” He waved his hand in the air as he searched for a way to finish that sentence, then gave up, going for the kitchen to get a new glass of juice. “How’d the waffles turn out?”

“Delicious,” Mabel decided, patting her stomach. “Extra cocoa was exactly right, so thanks.”

Dipper was the only one who hadn’t finished, still pushing pieces around on his plate. “What were you doing?”

“Just uh… looking some stuff up,” Wirt replied as he came back around to lean against the wall. He glanced at his place at the table and considered sitting down a moment. Instead he twisted his cup in his hands a few times. “Um… so… Dipper? I was just… I was just wondering, um… How- how do you feel about Salem? Massachusetts. Salem, Massachusetts.”

“Dude, that's on my list of must-go places. The history there is amazing. I mean, obviously the witch trials, but-”

Mabel’s eyes rolled before he could get rolling. “Dipper, that list is a bajillion miles long.”

“Shut up. At least we're actually close to Salem.” He leaned back in his chair, patting his heart forlornly if not for the grin on his face. “That almost counts.”

Wirt’s face lit up, the grip on his drink lessening as he took a step forward. “Yeah, um… we are close. Two hours and seventeen minutes by train, to be exact. It’s a good place for day trips or… well, you know… a date… trip. Maybe.” Wirt rocked on his heels, looking to Dipper expectantly. “Would you want to go? On a second date with me in Salem?”

His fork clattered to the plate, jaw going slack, and Mabel squealed. “That’s a yes. That means yes,” she supplied.

Color shot into his face and he glared at her. “Shut up! I mean- I mean, you’re not wrong, but- Wait.” He lifted his hands, flailing them in front of himself for a second and redirected his focus to who he was actually supposed to be talking to. “Yeah! Yes. That would be- Seriously?!”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m serious,” Wirt laughed, giving a little bounce before sliding into the seat next to him. “We can take the train tomorrow and spend the day there. I was just looking everything up to see if it was possible and it is- It’s totally possible.”

“That’s- How am I supposed to handle the rest of today knowing that’s happening? Oh my god, Wirt.” Thrilled, laughing, he grabbed his sweater and pulled him in for a kiss. “This is awesome. You’re amazing.”

Even though he was blushing, he couldn’t lose his smile as he soaked up Dipper’s happiness. “Well, you deserve something awesome and amazing,” he told him, adjusting his cap for him before going in for a kiss of his own.

Giggling, Mabel hopped up to start gathering dishes and gave Greg a wink. “Ob-waffle.”

Greg gave her a thumbs up, then pointed his fork at Wirt. “Eat your waffles before they get cold, Wirt!”

“I’m pretty sure I’m okay with cold waffles, Greg,” he replied, grinning at Dipper. “This is kinda worth it.”

Dipper could only laugh when Wirt’s stomach growled, giving it a rub. “Your stomach disagrees. Eat so we can make out for, like, basically the rest of the day. A day with you in freaking Salem. Are you freaking _kidding_ me?”

“Even if I was, after getting a reaction like this, I’d move mountains to make it happen.” Tempted to start their all-day make out session right then and there, his stomach did have other ideas. He pecked Dipper on the cheek, then turned to cut at his waffles with the side of his fork.

Dipper slid his entire chair over, neverminding that it pressed them too close to eat normally. He just switched his fork to the opposite hand and kept going, looping his other hand around Wirt’s waist. With him back and this exciting news in play, his appetite had returned. “Now I have to figure out how to top this. What am I supposed to do, take you back in time to your favorite poet’s house? Geez, man.”

Wirt noted the ease with which he swapped hands with appreciation. He smiled as he watched him, happy to see him finishing the food he’d been pushing around earlier. “I dunno. Frozen pizza and video games would work for me,” he replied. “But let me know if the time travel thing becomes an actual possibility - you know, without disrupting timelines or whatever.”

His own words thrown back at him, Dipper could only laugh again. “You are so not a video game guy, so I’ll keep the time travel thing in mind.”


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, Wirt and Dipper were dropped off at the train station on Amy’s way into work. Since it would undoubtedly be late and dark by the time they arrived back in Lakeville, Wirt promised to text her on the train ride back so either she or Jonathan could pick them up. It wouldn’t have been that bad of a walk, but they would probably be tired and if it eased his mom’s worries, then it was a reasonable enough agreement to make.

“You boys have fun, and be safe,” she told them through the window as they slid out of the car. At the ungodly hour of eight in the morning. “Call me if something comes up. Or Jon, he should be home all day today.”

“Yeah. We will. Thanks, Mom.” Wirt waved as she pulled away from the curb, then took Dipper’s hand and led him to the ticket kiosk.

Despite it being fairly early for Wirt’s standards during the summer, he was wide-awake, nerves all a-buzz with excitement. Anticipation. He really wanted this to go well, especially after how giddy and grateful Dipper’s kisses were leading up until bed, both almost too excited to sleep. Their usual routine of reading in bed - or Dipper clicking away on his laptop - had been forsaken in lieu of cuddles and whispered plans for what they’d do upon arriving.

They’d arrive a little after ten thirty, which would give them time to roam the city and check out some things before grabbing lunch and then going off on the next big adventure. With tickets in hand, they sat on a bench to wait for the train. It had been a while since Wirt had taken one, but he was looking forward to it, even if it meant it would take longer than driving. He didn’t mind. There was something poetic about taking a train to one’s destination. You know, providing you didn’t almost get run over by one in the process, he remedied mentally. That wasn’t nearly as romantic a thought.

Dipper gave his hand a squeeze, lacing their fingers. He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face and, admittedly, didn’t really try. His head tipped, resting on Wirt’s shoulder. His mind was buzzing with mystery, excitement pouring from him in waves, but there was also the sheer, giddy pleasure in knowing Wirt was doing this for him, had thought of it for him. What other kind of person would think of witch central as date-worthy?

And the whole day would just be them. Crowds, of course, as the summer was tourist season no matter where you went, but it was the point of the thing. No crazy siblings or well-meaning parents around to push open doors, poking their heads in and interrupting. There would be none of that, and there was a grand sense of freedom in being able to spend the day with him doing whatever they wanted to do.

“I know I’ve said this at least a billion times, but this is awesome.”

“You can keep saying it. I’m not complaining.” Wirt smiled back, content to have Dipper resting against him. Like he could depend on him. Trust him. He wanted to be worthy of all that.

He tilted his head so his cheek was pressed to the pine tree cap, watching the railroad tracks as the tell-tale whistle called out further down. It would be at the station soon. Though of course now he was loathe to move. Well, at least they had the whole train ride to sit together, undisturbed.

“I almost can’t believe it’s just gonna be us. I sort of feel like Mabel’s gonna stalk us with her camera.”

“We don’t have to worry about that. She’d have Greg with her and they’re not what I’d call stealthy.” Dipper retrieved his phone from his vest pocket, the familiar article back on with a mysterious location as their destination, and snapped a quick shot of them. Smiles and all. “If anyone’s documenting our second date, it’s going to be us.”

Wirt laughed, nudging him lightly. “We should record some of it. Keep the theme going. ‘Dipper’s Guide to the Unexplained: How did Wirt Actually Manage to Think up an Awesome Second Date?’ The world will never know.” As the train came around the corner, he nudged him again so they could stand.

“Yeah. According to Candy and Grenda - and I don’t know how they keep track of this stuff - the two main themes in the comment section are ‘who’s the guy?’ and ‘wait, you’re gay?’” He shrugged, keeping his hand in Wirt’s as the train drew closer. “Apparently my answers of ‘none of your business’ and ‘still none of your business’ aren’t acceptable.”

Keeping them both back well behind whatever yellow line there was while the train came to a complete stop, Wirt squeezed his hand and stayed just a step in front of him. “I don’t know, I think it’s fitting that your private life stays just as unexplained as the rest of the things you document,” he replied, blushing a little. “Though I’m surprised you kept my line in at all. It didn’t really add anything to it. People would’ve noticed you didn’t have a title card and would’ve shrugged it off. Probably.”

“Yeah, well... I wanted you in it. And the girls have wanted me to come out on the channel for a while, y’know? Social justice warriors and all. But it’s not what the channel’s about, or at least not what I want it to be about.” He shrugged again. “There’s more to stuff than who you love.”

Wirt started to nod, but froze. Love. His heart skipped a beat and his lips parted to agree, to reply with something remotely intelligent or sweet in return because Dipper basically just admitted to loving him. Or did he? He clearly meant the general ‘you,’ but they had been talking about his channel in particular. His sexuality. His boyfriend.

And it wouldn’t be the first time he’d pretty much admitted to loving him. Back when Greg asked him how long it took. _Not as long as you think_ still echoed in his mind and made butterflies burst in his belly and even now his cheeks were bright red at the memory.

But what if it had just slipped out? What if he didn’t mean the love between the two of them?

Still, he had to say something sweet back - something coherent at least. Instead he was just standing there, wondering what the heck he could possibly say because either way he was reading too much into it or brushing off something important, something crucial, and there was no way to win. There was absolutely no way to win in this situation as far as he could tell.

He was saved by the screech of the train’s brakes. They made him jump, his arm jerking to cross Dipper’s chest and shield him from- from basically nothing. The doors opening, maybe. Wirt swallowed and slowly lowered his arm. Great, he’d gotten so lost in his own thoughts, he’d reacted like a total spaz over the train stopping.

“Sorry, um. Surprised me, that’s- that’s all. You know, the sudden sound and the- the hiss and uh- yeah. Um. You’re right. Your channel should totally be about what you want it to be, which is paranormal stuff, so if you don’t want to bring up things like that, then you shouldn’t have to. But it’s up to you, it’s your call, and we should probably board. Yeah. You like riding forward or backward?” Wirt babbled as he went back to holding Dipper’s hand instead of blocking his body with his arm while he led them inside the car in front of them.

Dipper laced their fingers immediately. Wirt getting lost in his thoughts wasn’t that unusual, so that’s not what had him staring at the back of his head with wide eyes. It was the gesture. He’d thrown his arm out. He’d offered protection. It didn’t matter that it was over something as silly as a train squealing to a stop. To Dipper, it was the instinct that had mattered.

Caught up in thought, lost in whatever musings he’d slipped into, Wirt’s first instinct when something had seemed out of place had been to shield. “Forward, I guess. Or backward. I don’t know. I don’t ride trains like this, so it’s whatever you want. Or whatever gets us in a seat fastest so I can kiss you.”

“Okay- wait. What?” Wirt stopped on his way to the closest pair of seats, turning his wide-eyed attention to Dipper.

He laughed, tugging Wirt the rest of the way. He couldn’t explain what it meant to him, not without sounding like a complete loser, but that wasn’t going to stop him from showing his gratitude. He nudged Wirt ahead of him, giving him the window seat, and wasted no more time before pressing their lips together. “You’re the best, man.”

“Oh. Um. Okay.” Wirt blinked at him, smile spreading as the kiss and gratitude sank in. “I don’t- I don’t know what I did, though. Can I ask why?”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re just being you, and I’m being stupid about it. You make me stupid.”

“Oh. Sorry. I don’t mean to,” he huffed out a laugh, mind more at ease with the subject of love apparently behind them as he brushed their lips together, fingers curling in Dipper’s shirt to tug him closer. “I do like your brain.”

He shifted without argument, irrationally grateful for bench seats that let him press as close as physically possible to his boyfriend. “I like yours too, even when you get lost in it.” He tilted his head, straightening to kiss his brow.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. My thoughts just kinda- and then the train and- I was paying attention. To what you were saying,” he clarified. “I know it might’ve seemed like I wasn’t, but I was.”

“I know. Your thoughts are usually all over your face.” Which he was suddenly very interested in showing his appreciation of. Dipper brushed his lips, featherlight, over his eyelids to make them lower, then to either outer corner of his eyes. “It’s like if you think it’s important, you try to make sure your words match.” His lips skipped over Wirt’s to rub against his cheeks. “And then you realize how long you’re taking, and end up flustered anyway. It’s really sweet.

“Like this.” He kissed the bridge of his nose, his tongue a teasing hint that made it scrunch. “I can’t get over that. It’s my favorite thing about your face, and that’s so dumb but whatever. Your whole nose scrunch thing is adorable. Your whole face is. Just _you_ are.” He took his lips finally, a hand falling to his waist to squeeze and the other lifting to tangle in his hair.

Wirt’s breath hitched on a small gasp, the anticipation, bashfulness, and rush of adoration swirling inside him. He leaned in, having been effectively kissed and wooed into pliancy, and his lips parted for him. Arms wound around his shoulders, fingers kneading Dipper’s back as he clung to him.

“Wow,” he wheezed, taking a quick break for air to combat the lightheadedness. “ _Wow._ You’re… I don’t- Oh my gosh. I want to kiss you again.” Wirt sealed their lips together again.

Dipper’s laugh faded into a pleased little noise, the hand in his hair falling to cup his cheek. His thumb rubbed little circles against his skin as he licked his way right back into Wirt’s mouth to continue the exploration a need of oxygen had disrupted. At that point, though, it wasn’t so much an exploration as a rediscovery. He’d figured out his boyfriend’s kissing preferences with plenty of practice, and reveled in the soft sounds he could draw out.

“So how long’s this train ride?” he mumbled, trailing kisses along Wirt’s jaw.

“Two… two hours and seventeen minutes,” Wirt answered breathlessly, face flushed as he tilted his head, lips eager to chase after Dipper’s.

“And we haven’t left the station yet. This is a best day.” He let Wirt catch up, stroking his side and letting him take over this one.

Humming against his lips, Wirt cupped the nape of Dipper’s neck and eased them into a slow, deep kiss. He liked to take his time, tasting each reaction like he would a verse of a poem. Dipper was a poem all on his own. He caught his lower lip carefully between his teeth, eyes opening as the train shifted and rolled forward. Wirt couldn’t help grinning at him as he pulled back. Even though his heart was pounding, he felt lighter than ever.

“We’re probably going to pick up more people at the next stops,” he mused, toying with the curls peeking out from under the pine tree hat. “So I guess we should enjoy the privacy while it lasts.”

Dipper ran his tongue along his own bottom lip, savoring the taste of him for a moment. “I don’t think I’m having any trouble enjoying this.” His eyes fluttered opened, lips curving. “Yeah. No trouble at all.”

 

\----

 

Being on the coast, Salem was slightly cooler and the humidity not as dense with the ocean breeze wafting through downtown. It was a plus for Wirt, what with his nontraditional summer wardrobe, and he instantly appreciated the mild weather as they stepped off the train. He’d been to Salem before, but never without a parent and definitely never on a date.

Smile bright and the color in his cheeks even brighter, Wirt’s gaze shifted to Dipper, admiring him absorbing their surroundings as he laced their fingers together. It was the best sight, better than anything the tourism had to offer. Though, speaking of, it would probably be a good idea to locate a map of downtown Salem from the stack of pamphlets in front of the station. Just in case they needed to find anything in particular. He wasn’t in any rush though, they had all day. And he didn’t doubt that they’d make the most of it. Not when they’d already made the most of the first half of their train ride before their car got too full and Wirt’s embarrassment and modesty held him back from any further make out sessions. Especially when he had absolutely no control over the little sounds Dipper so easily coaxed out of him.

Dipper, of course, wanted to run around and explore every single inch of the town. The energy held the same electricity as Gravity Falls, and it tingled over him. “I’m saying it again. Brace yourself.” He grinned at Wirt, bouncing in place. “This is awesome.”

“You know, that was the last thing I expected you to say,” Wirt teased, but it was hard for his face and heart to not completely melt. He wanted to bundle up this adorable, giddy boyfriend of his in his arms and never let him go. But that would have to wait. “So, where was it you wanted to go first again?” He bumped their shoulders together, pretending that they hadn’t already discussed this at length.

“I don’t- I don’t know. The plan’s dead. It keeled over.” Dipper laughed, pushing his hat back a bit. “I don’t know. I know I said one of the museums, but... I don’t know. The energy here is amazing. It’s amazing that people can take the tragedy that happened here, using it for real witches to come here and safely thumb their noses at the past.”

“Wait. _Real_ witches are here?” Wirt’s eyes rounded. “Despite everything that happened, there are actual, real witches here?”

“Yeah, man!” Dipper swung around, grabbing his other hand. “Can’t you feel it? Beyond the obvious marketing stuff, there’s magic here. Like, yeah, you can find it everywhere, but some places? It seeps in. It becomes part of the whole thing. They took something awful, and they claimed it. That’s just... freaking amazing.”

Blinking as his cheeks turned pink, Wirt turned his focus away from the way Dipper was holding his hands and looking at him. He tried to feel it. He sort of knew the feeling from The Unknown and Gravity Falls. It was a slight tremor of… not exactly ‘not right’ but close. More like ‘unusual’ than ‘not right.’ Wirt closed his eyes, as if that would help, and listened to the sounds of tourists and passer-bys around them, detected the smell and taste of the ocean, felt the warmth of Dipper’s palms against his. There was a small ripple. A crackle of satisfaction, pride, and ownership that crept along his skin and made him want to shiver. Unusual.

“I think so?” Wirt cracked open one eye to take a peek at Dipper, feeling a little embarrassed standing there with his eyes closed. “I think I feel it…”

Dipper leaned forward on a laugh, kissing him despite the crowds. Only their hands and lips touched, the connections a magic all their own. “Come on. New plan is no plan. Let’s find a map and some food and then see what happens.”

“Sounds good to me.” Wirt squeezed his hands, then let go of one so he could grab a foldable map. He used it to tap Dipper’s cheek. “It’ll be a mystery.”

“A mysterious day date in a place steeped in magic? I’m all for this.” He tucked in close to his side so he could see the map when it was opened, scanning it. “Okay, so, you pick where we eat now and I’ll pick later?”

“Sure. That seems fair.”

Wirt glanced at the map, following a little trail from the “You are Here” star. He glanced at the locations marked as restaurants, finding most of them to be near the water aside from a few of the more witch-themed ones. What seemed like an easy enough decision at first suddenly became a lot more challenging. All for their magical, mystery date and steeping themselves in as much of the mood as possible, his gaze kept wandering towards the pier.

“Hm. I- I don’t know. I feel like since we’re in Salem we should go all out and check out ‘The Witch’s Brew,’ or something just as cleverly named, but…” His cheeks colored and he pursed his lips. “There’s something- I dunno… romantic about having lunch or dinner on the water… No. What am I saying? We can do that anywhere. Well, not anywhere- I mean, somewhere in the midwest it’d be kind of impossible, but what I meant was other places have oceans. Yeah. So, let’s go here. Witch’s Brew. It’s just down the street it looks like.”

“Cool. Definitely doing the romantic waterfront thing later, though. After dealing with me geeking out over witches all day, you'll have earned it.” Dipper kissed his cheek, tugging him along on their first adventure of the day.

 

\----

 

He certainly did geek out. It wasn’t all witches, though that was a large component for him. He’d also fawned over the House of the Seven Gables immediately after eating since they were closeby. Plus, the book was one Dipper had actually read and he’d been thrilled to discover that Wirt had read it as well. He’d loved the hidden staircase, the tour when he bothered to listen to it, and kept jotting notes in his private paranormal journal.

It had been difficult to not break away from the tour entirely. The teasing lure of hauntings and intrigue made him want to explore on his own, but he’d overruled Wirt and paid for the admittedly ridiculous tickets with a swipe of his debit card and assurances that, yeah, he had enough saved up to cover it. In his mind, it made up for the groceries and for the brunch Wirt had paid for.

Plus, he just hadn’t wanted to miss it. He spent his summers working and living in a tourist trap and recognized the signs - Grunkle Stan would’ve made a killing in Salem - but that didn’t mean he wasn’t susceptible to them. He wanted to be sucked in. He wanted to snap pictures of things he would likely forget the significance of when looking back, and he really wanted to snap pictures of Wirt. He could’ve rivaled Mabel for how often his phone was out, the shutter on his camera app clicking constantly.

From the House of the Seven Gables to the Witch House and the museums and tours and shops in-between, he’d had to plug in his portable charger to keep his phone alive. It was all worth it, though, to be able to explore a town with such a fascinating history right beside someone equally as fascinating.

Dipper grinned at him now, giving his hand a squeeze as they strolled down yet another sidewalk. He was just too sweet, from his messy hair to his mismatched shoes, to still be tolerating him after what had surely been a nonstop annoyance.

“Wirt, look at this. Wirt, can you even believe-? Wirt, that’s not even true. Wirt, this is so _cool_! Wirt, come on! Wirt, do you want to go-? Wirt, Wirt, Wirt!”

Dipper couldn’t quite work up the embarrassment over his own giddiness, still caught up in it all as their day drew to a close. He’d kissed, cajoled, grabbed, and outright dragged him around and there hadn’t been complaints. So maybe he was a little giddy over that, too, over having someone who didn’t ridicule him or, worse, brush him aside when his excitement reached its peak and excited theories, conspiracies, and just thoughts poured out.

Wirt accepted them, smiled and sometimes laughed. Dipper hadn’t yet managed to decide if he liked it more when he laughed or when he shared his own opinion because Wirt’s poetic mind continued to be an absolute fascination to him, but he did know those were his top two.

“Thanks,” he heard, then blinked and tugged his cap down when he realized that had been his own stupid voice.

Drawing his gaze from the architecture - he’d been admiring the four different styles that were prominent in downtown, from Georgian to Colonial, in the lull of silence between them - Wirt smiled at him and bumped their shoulders together. “For what?”

Well, it was out there now. May as well finish it. “For this. Today. And, y’know, for humoring me.”

“Humoring you?” Wirt lifted an eyebrow, then ducked his head to try and see under the shadow of Dipper’s cap. “No way, this has been amazing. I’ve loved hearing everything you have to say. I always do. I’m just hoping I’ve been able to keep up enough for you. You’re like a whirlwind when you get excited, and it’s completely captivating to watch as so many things come together when you’re talking, you know, when you’re making sense of things or picking out little details that I’d never have noticed and your face just lights up and- I don’t know. I feel kind of silly, but also kind of special that you’ll slow down and let me catch up. Let me stand in the center of your tornado.” He paused, brow furrowing as he looked away. “That was stupid, I’m sorry. Bad metaphor. Anyway, you don’t get to thank me for today unless I get to thank you, too.”

“I don’t know. It’s not that bad. It’s definitely not the first time I’ve been called a tornado, but you mean it in a nicer way than most.” Dipper didn’t know what to do with that, heart swelling in his chest. He pushed his cap back, both smile and blush revealing the quiet shyness he could usually shove aside. “You are special, though, so don’t feel silly about that.”

He was completely adorable. Wirt paused outside one of the little shops and tugged on Dipper’s hand to get him to stop, too, then cupped his warm cheek with one hand and drew him in for a kiss. There’d been plenty of kissing on this date so far, but it didn’t stop Wirt’s heart from skipping each time.

“It’s kind of hard not to feel a little silly around you, but it’s in a good way,” he assured him, thumb stroking lightly.

“Oh. Um. Okay.” Dipper tilted his head towards the affectionate touch, briefly pressing his lips together as if to keep Wirt’s taste on them. “I...” _I love you._ “If this is how I make you feel when I compliment you, I’m not even sorry. This is nice.”

Wirt laughed and brushed a softer kiss to the corner of his mouth. “It is nice,” he agreed, still smiling as he teasingly scrunched his nose for him. “And I’m not sorry either.”

“I shouldn’t have told you about the nose thing, oh my god.” But he was grinning as he reached a hand up to toy with the hair at the nape of Wirt’s neck. “It’s a serious weakness, and you’re just gonna exploit it.”

“Yep.” He rubbed it against Dipper’s. “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Dipper laughed. “I can enjoy it. That works out pretty well for me.” After giving him another kiss, simple joy sweeping through him again, he tugged the map from Wirt’s back pocket and stepped back. He knew it by heart already, but still liked to have the paper in his hands. “So I was kinda thinking about looking around in one of the shops to maybe get something for Mabel and Greg. It’s weird not having them popping around every corner. Really great since, y’know, just being with you is the best, but still weird.”

“I know what you mean.” Wirt rocked back on his heels and glanced around at the shops in their immediate vicinity while Dipper scanned the map. “Plus, I know Greg would love something that has to do with witches. After ghosts, and probably skeletons, too, I think witches are his next favorite.” He squinted at a sign across the street and down the block a bit, then checked the map to see if it was marked as a store. “Want to try that one? Witch Way Gifts?”

It got them closer towards the cemetery, which was the other stop he wanted to make. He hadn’t quite run that by Wirt, though, so hoped he remembered that he liked being caught up in a tornado when that came about.

“That’s the worst name. Yes.”

Laughing, Wirt grabbed his hand and took his turn to tug Dipper after him as they crossed the street. The store was definitely geared towards tourists, with all sorts of Salem memorabilia, but from some of the old books, jewelry, and trinkets it was clear that there was an air of authenticity to it as well. It made sense, Wirt noted, to mix the fabrication of a fictional Salem with the real deal.

He had to raise an eyebrow at the blatant Halloween-esque display, complete with jack-o-lanterns and the cat that always had its back arched and bristled, but looking past it, his attention was caught by multi-colored, glass spheres that lined a shelf behind it. They looked like intricately blown ornaments. “Witch Ball” the sign read, and it was a fitting enough name, Wirt decided. If he wasn’t so certain that Greg would break it, he’d have considered something like that.

“What kind of thing did you have in mind for Mabel? Or did you just want to wing it and see what we find?” he asked. Both of their siblings were easy enough to please, but he had a feeling that she would appreciate whatever they got her just a little bit more.

“Just wing it, and if all else fails, earrings. She loves them.” He trailed a finger along one of the spheres, humming to himself. “I think we’ll be able to do better than that here, though. Place is random.”

Wirt nodded, watching him admire it. “Yeah. Perfect for her and Greg,” he mused, examining a multi-colored sphere that looked as if it had been splashed with a ray of rainbow confetti and he smiled. “This one seems kind of like her.”

“Yeah, it does. Throw some glitter on there? Done.” He picked it up, rolling it in his fingers like he would a baseball, and it clicked in his head like a pitch would. They were for protection, to be hung up to entrap evil spirits. He grinned at Wirt. “That was easy. Greg’s turn.”

“Hm. Maybe a dreamcatcher?” He tapped one of the hanging nets as he wandered a few steps away. “I dunno. He’d probably like anything.”

“Probably.” Dipper’s gaze was caught by a flash of silver, and he sighed at the jewelry display. He’d have to get her earrings too. It was unavoidable. “Split up and find something? Mabel’s getting two, so he should.”

“Okay.” Wirt nodded, grinning at the jewelry. “Good luck,” he wished him before resuming his perusal of the store.

It wasn’t that there weren’t a lot of interesting things in the store, there were many things that piqued Wirt’s interest. It was more that there weren’t a lot of things appropriate for a seven-year-old to play with. But he found a bag of wooden runes that he figured were safe enough for Greg to turn into some kind of game and a frog ornament that was more than fitting for his younger brother. He checked the prices, calculated what he had in his wallet and what he’d left at home, and was satisfied that they both fit in his price range well-enough, then made back to the jewelry to find Dipper, fairly certain he’d be right where he left him in need of help in picking something out and ready to be a good boyfriend and offer his assistance. Though how Wirt had somehow become the go-to guy for earrings was beyond him.

Dipper was torn between two sets, a pair of dangling pentacles or the witches on broomsticks. “Girl stuff sucks.”

A small, half-smile tugged at his lips as he tried not to let his amusement show. “You know she’d love either of them,” he pointed out, tilting his head as he pictured each pair in the hands of the girl twin, then shrugged. “Pentacles would probably go with more.”

“Yeah. They’re basically stars. I don’t know if she likes those so much just to be defiant or what.” He took up the pentacles, satisfied, and studied what was in Wirt’s grasp with a laugh. “What, couldn’t find a magical tiger?”

“No. Apparently they’re fresh out of magical tigers.” Wirt pretended to look putout. “Maybe someday he’ll get that magical tiger wish, but for today he’ll have to settle with magical frog. Ornament. Thing.”

“I think he’ll be okay with it anyway.” With the purchases settled, Dipper turned in a slow circle. “I wonder what else they have here.”

“A lot of different stuff from what I’ve seen. Plaques and crystals and tarot cards, some model pirate ships for some reason, and stained glass pictures of lighthouses.” Wirt sidled up to him and looped an arm around his waist. “Want to explore?”

Dipper leaned into him. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to, man. Heck yeah I want to explore.”

Wirt grinned and kissed his cheek. “I’d never forget. Lead the way, admiral.”

It was the strangest place, and Dipper loved it. Awful pun of a name aside, it was a delight to see gargoyle themed hourglasses tucked beside bumper stickers - “My other car is a broom” and similarly themed silliness. Tourist trap things beside things of real value, and the air sizzled with magic.

And books! He broke away from Wirt, distracted by the row, and started studying titles. Witchcraft for beginners alongside young adult fiction, no rhyme or reason to any of it. One book, though, seemed most out of place. Its cover didn’t have a title, didn’t even have an image. Intrigued by the plain leather, he reached down and took it. He opened to a page in the middle and was immediately intrigued.

A spellbook. Not quite like the others around him, with their explanations on how to make spells work and how to fashion wands and utilize crystals. A short explanation at the top - use and original spellcaster - and then the words. Witches spells were like poems and without all the fuss of a how-to manual, this definitely read more like a book of poetry than a book of witchcraft.

He bit his lip and tucked it under his arm. He had to get it.

Wirt glanced over at him, examining some books of his own. The one in his hand had a girl on the cover that bore a very distinct resemblance to Lorna on one side and the evil spirit that possessed her to eat people on the other. It was a little uncanny.

“Did you find something interesting?” He tilted his head, eyes going to the book Dipper had grabbed.

“Maybe.” He grinned, rocking back on his heels. “What’re you looking at?”

“Ah- nothing really.” His gaze flicked back to the book in his hand, then held it up for Dipper to see. “She looked familiar, that’s all. It was kind of weird so I was getting a closer look.”

Keeping the book away from his sight as much as possible, Dipper edged forward to take a look. “Familiar how?”

“Oh, um. Remember that story I told you about the spirit I banished in The Unknown? This looks like the girl. Lorna. It’s probably just the Puritan clothes and everything, I’m sure it’s just a coincidence, but it caught my eye. I mean, it’s not like she was a witch… or- or anything.” Though what did he know? Her tombstone wasn’t one of the ones he’d found in the Eternal Garden Cemetery. She could’ve been from Salem. She could’ve been executed as a witch. Wirt put the book back quickly.

Dipper bumped their shoulders together. “You okay?”

“Fine. Yeah, I’m fine.” Wirt turned his head to offer him a weak smile, then hesitated. “It’s just… I don’t know. I didn’t find her grave back home, but I didn’t really think anything of it because of the spirit stuff and the fact that you were from Oregon and maybe not everyone was from Lakeville because that’d just be ridiculous, so I guess I just kinda thought… what if she was from here? It was unsettling, that’s all. I mean, when she wasn’t possessed by an evil spirit she seemed really kind and sweet and not…” Wirt pursed his lips and scuffed his shoes on the floor. “It was just a thought that maybe she was a witch. Not a real one, but you know.”

“It’s not like witches are all bad. At least not any more so than regular people, so she could’ve been. But, um...” Dipper shrugged a little, deciding to take the opening. “I was kind of kicking around the idea of, y’know, going to the cemetery before we grab food? It’s not really... They just have the memorial thing there, and I wanted to check it out. And maybe we could look for Lorna? I mean, if you wanted to.”

Wirt’s eyes widened. “Yeah? Could we? I’d- I’d like to, I mean… just to know, you know? Now that the idea’s in my head. And I didn’t mean witches were bad, it would be fine if she was a real one, like I have no problem with that, more power to her, I just- I just meant I hope she didn’t have to… die like that and not really have been one.” It was one thing to read about and feel sad from a distance, but another entirely to consider having known someone who might’ve suffered at the hands of paranoia and mob mentality.

Dipper couldn’t help the laugh. “Okay, cool. I kind of thought- I don’t know. I didn’t think you’d want to go? But okay. Yeah. We’re close. So pay and hit the cemetery? I’m done here if you are.”

“Yeah. I’m good.” Wirt nodded, tucking the items for Greg in one hand as he held out the other for Dipper’s book. “Let me see that, I’ll get it for you.”

“Oh. Uh... It’s not, um...” He took a step back, averting his gaze. “It’s not for me?”

Wirt blinked and tilted his head. “Oh? Oh wait, is it another thing for Mabel? Do I have to find something else for Greg? I mean, guess I could grab that beginner’s ghost hunting book for him that I saw, but…”

“No, it’s kind of...” He couldn’t tug his hat down, so ducked his head to hide the blush. He was allowed to buy things for his boyfriend, wasn’t he? “It’s for... you?”

“Oh. Oh!” Wirt’s cheeks warmed just as quickly. “Sorry, was it- was it a surprise? You- oh, you don’t have to get me- unless you want- what am I saying, obviously you want to or you wouldn’t have grabbed it. I’ll just pretend I never saw it. You totally don’t have anything in your hand right now. I see nothing.”

“It wasn’t a surprise. Like. I’m standing right next to you. I just kind of wanted to get it and then let you see? I don’t know. I wasn’t planning on it. I just picked it up because it looked different, and I think you might like it. If you don’t, that’s cool. But I want to know, I guess, if I’m actually capable of picking up something you might like and...

“I’m just gonna go pay. Yup. Stopping the rambling. Going to pay. Mmhm.” Dipper fled the aisle.

Wirt stared after him a minute, heart taking the time to flutter in his chest. When he realized he was just sort of standing there like a lovesick dork, he hurried after his boyfriend, nearly tripping over himself and falling right into him as he got behind him at the register. His cheeks were still flushed, but he offered him a smile nonetheless.

“You know, if it’s from you, there’s no way I won’t like it,” he told him quietly.

“Oh my god. You say that now.” He set his things down on the counter, retrieving his wallet from his back pocket to get his card. He’d never gotten around to pulling cash from an ATM, but reasoned that the card was easier to handle and where was he really going to go that required cash?

The total had him running numbers in his mind, which was preferable to freaking out over whether or not Wirt would actually like it. A spellbook. Oh, man, he was letting his paranormal weirdness infect gifts. His first present for him was a freaking book of _spells_. What was wrong with him? What if he didn’t like it?

_Math_. Math, math, math, numbers. He dragged them back, pushing the panic away, and ran through his bank account until the card was back in his wallet and the shopping bag was in his grasp. He stepped to the side, rocking on his heels and back as he waited.

Wirt cast him a sidelong glance as he paid with cash, bothering with exact change since he had it. He knew anxiety when he saw it, feeling a twinge of guilt for having drawn attention to it in the first place. With a polite smile and ‘thanks,’ he took his purchases and joined Dipper.

“Dipper, it’s okay.” He placed a hand at the small of his back as he turned to start for the shop’s exit. “Seriously, don’t freak out about a present. I’m really… it’s awesome to know that you saw something that you thought I’d like. It’s really sweet, no matter what it is, okay?”

“I’m not freaking out.” He frowned, shoving the door open and gesturing for Wirt to go ahead. “Well, I might be a little.”

Wirt went first and waited for Dipper before taking his free hand and lacing their fingers together. “You really worried I’m not gonna like it?”

“I don’t know. I mean- Bleh. You’ll like it. You like books. I’m just being stupid.”

“No, you’re not stupid. You’re adorable. It’s… it’s kinda cute that you’re giving this so much thought and it’s just nice. I didn’t expect you to get me anything.” He squeezed his hand. “You okay? I’m sorry if I made you feel weird about it.”

“I made myself feel weird about it. It’s fine.” Dipper shook his head, offering a smile. “Now comes the part where I try to figure out when I’m giving it to you. Now so you know or later while we’re eating so you’re too distracted by romance to realize I’m a loser?”

“I can wait,” he told him. “We did have a mission to get to, right? We can start there, then maybe after you can show me? If you want.”

Dipper let go of his hand to sling his arm around his waist instead. “That works.”

“Okay, then that’s what we’ll do.”

Wirt flashed him a grin, the arm around his waist feeling as if it absolutely belonged there. As if he belonged to him. Being wanted this way still surprised him, as his somersaulting stomach could attest to, but he was all too eager to lean into him, wrapping his arm around him in return.

It was easy enough to push aside his anxieties when they were holding on to the other, when Wirt seemed happy with him. If the present was bad or just too cheesy, it couldn’t ruin the whole day. It had been too good of one.

Dipper rubbed their cheeks together briefly, as playful as his twin, and lead the way towards the cemetery. It was a morbid thing to be excited about, but it was just as fascinating to him as the museums had been. And now with the added bonus of settling Wirt’s curiosity - hopefully - about one of the spirits he’d helped in The Unknown? He was all for that. “Can we look at the memorial first? That’ll be quick.”

“Yeah, sure. And we can take our time still. I mean, we have until eight to catch the last train, so don’t feel rushed or anything.”

Not a stranger to cemeteries any longer, or at least one cemetery in particular, Wirt felt at ease and a minor morbid sense of familiarity as they walked past the gates for the Salem Cemetery and followed the cobblestone path leading towards the memorial. It was a small cemetery, from what they could see, with the memorial shrouded in shadow in the late afternoon thanks to the cover of trees. The stone wall was easy enough to spot, with many large slabs protruding from the side of it. The names of those who had been wrongly put to death were carved into those slabs.

Dipper’s mood didn’t plummet so much as shift. For all the magic in the air, for all the tourist gimmicks to get sucked into, this was the reality. It had all stemmed from this. He withdrew his journal from his vest, a colored pencil nicked from his sister from his pocket, and knelt down in front of the list of names carved into stone.

It ached in his heart, the names of the innocent being rubbed onto pages for him to keep. “Hysteria and misunderstandings are the worst combination,” he murmured.

“And both are all too easy to inspire,” Wirt agreed as he crouched down beside him, fingertips tracing the worn, fading names on the aged stone. “From a single pebble out of place, the fear of the other bursts from its spring. Soaking the minds of the misinformed and drowning the innocent who get in the way.”

Dipper paused to lean against him. “They were innocent. That’s what kills me. There weren’t any witches in Salem then, none that I’ve ever tracked down at least. But all these people just pointing fingers and tearing each other apart because of just plain ignorance... It kills me.”

Wirt looked over at him, then pressed his lips to his temple just below the hat. “I know,” he murmured, arm looping around his waist. “It was senseless and- and pointless. None of it had to happen if people would’ve just stopped for a moment and listened. They needed more people like you. The world still does. Someone who’s curious about differences and strives to understand them and helps anyone who’s in need or… or lost.”

He glanced up, offering a smile, then bumped their shoulders together and resumed rubbing the names for his journal. “I’m nothing if not a guide.”

Wirt scoffed, straightening up to wander along the wall. “You’re more than that. You’re a leader. And philosopher. Asking all the tough questions no one else wants to.” His lips quirked up. “Remember with Beatrice? You drove her crazy with all your questions. If more people had questioned everything about the Salem Witch Trials and stood for what they believed was right, then maybe not so many people would’ve suffered.”

Or maybe just burned along with them. Dipper kept that pessimistic thought to himself, leaning away as the page was filled. He felt better having them to hold onto, to carry with him. Long gone, but not forgotten. “There wouldn’t be answers without questions.” He tucked his journal away, rising to follow his boyfriend. “Let’s try and find the answer to one of yours.”

“I haven’t seen her name so far. Maybe she was a Puritan from a different time and maybe she just got sick. She had an illness- but that was caused by the spirit in her…” Wirt scraped the toe of his shoe against the cobblestone while he stopped to wait for him, then lifted his gaze to find Dipper’s. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He reached out, taking Wirt’s hand in an automatic search for comfort. “Let’s keep looking.”

Wirt laced their fingers together and squeezed. “Okay. Just let me know if you want to take a minute or anything.” Dipper helped people. Dipper was righteous, or at least he believed in righteousness, from what Wirt could tell. This sort of thing, where there wasn’t a happy ending and no comeuppance for the people who wronged innocents, it would weigh heavy on the mind of any empathic person, but especially his boyfriend’s. Wirt was hopeful the search for Lorna’s grave would give his mind something to fixate on, something to compel his curiosity.

Except the search didn’t last very long. While he didn’t know her last name, he had a sinking feeling that the slab bearing the same first name of ‘Lorna’ belonged to her. None of them had ages, only the dates they were hung or burned.

“Oh…” Wirt swallowed, unable to glance away from the marker. Someone had looked at the girl as soft spoken as he and deemed her a witch. She’d stood in front of her entire town, her people, her family, and had been condemned to death. No wonder an evil spirit had found its way inside her. How betrayed must she have felt? How angry. She was his age, fifteen. Fifteen and forced to die for nothing.

Dipper swallowed, heart aching for him. He retrieved his journal again, tearing out the page this time, and started to rub her name onto the page. “Was she happy when you and Greg left?” he asked as he worked.

Wirt nodded, rubbing his arm through his sweater. “Yeah. Yeah, she seemed happy. We got the spirit out of her and she went home with Auntie Whispers. Free.” Regardless of whatever pain she endured in her lifetime, at least in the afterlife she’d be free to do as she pleased. It offered some comfort to reflect on that.

“Then that’s what you remember.” Dipper rose and offered the page with her name. “I’ll add her to my mental list of reasons why I do the crazy crap I do.”

Wirt accepted it gratefully, gentle as he traced her name with his fingers before making a careful fold so he could tuck it away for safe keeping. “Thank you.” He wrapped his arms around Dipper’s waist to draw him close and touched their foreheads together. “You’re absolutely amazing, you know that?”

He hooked his arms over his shoulders, fingers curling into his sweater. “Anytime you need something amazing, you know who to call,” he joked, but nuzzled him gently and held on.

“You bet I do.” His eyes and smile were soft as he tipped his head to kiss him, letting it linger. “I’m going to have to find ways to repay you for all your amazing… amazingness.” Wirt’s brow creased and his nose wrinkled. “Look at that, you’re so amazing, I have no words.”

He laughed, rubbing their noses together. “It’s just payback for all the times you’ve killed my brain.”

“But how am I supposed to write you more cheesy poems if I don’t have any words?” He grinned and squeezed his waist. “How can I romance you?”

“Bringing me here for a whole day and not being tired of me ranks pretty high up on my romance scale, so I think this earned you a few poem points.” He grinned back. “We’ll have to jumpstart your brain somehow, though, since I can never have too many cheesy poems.”

“Have any suggestions? I have killed your brain a lot.” Wirt pointed out, then released his hold on his waist and a few steps back. “Maybe decreasing our proximity?”

Dipper tilted his head to the side, seeming to consider it, then grinned as he shook his head. “Nah. If I have to choose between you being close and you having your brain fully functioning, I’ll go with you being close. I’ll just have to pick up your slack.”

“That seems like a fair compromise,” Wirt accepted, gravitating back to his side and linking their fingers together. “Just as long as your brain keeps doing what it does best, otherwise we’ll both be in trouble.”

He laughed. “Alright, since you’re already braindead, screw it.” He gave his hand a quick squeeze before releasing it to grab the book from his bag. “Here. Just because I like you and today’s been amazing.”

Wirt blinked, the playfulness vanishing as he took it. His shopping back looped around his wrist so he could cradle the book with both hands, admiring the slightly worn leather with his fingertips before thumbing through the pages. His mind immediately jumped to poems as he skimmed the words, face lighting up as he realized they were spells. Spells like poems. Paranormal poetry. A perfect blend of Dipper’s interests and his own.

He closed the book only so he could hug it to his chest, practically beaming. “I love it. It’s perfect and I’m buying you dinner. It’s settled. Don’t try and argue.”

The instantaneous regret at handing it over, waiting for judgement, faded with his delight. Dipper rubbed the back of his neck, even the argument he had ready slipping into another laugh instead. “Okay. So it’s not weird?”

“Of course not, why would it be weird? It’s like both of us in a book and it totally encapsulates today by being a witch’s spell book and I’m- I’m always going to think of you when I read it.” Wirt’s cheeks colored at that last admission, smile turning sheepish. “Not just because of the magic stuff, but that does make it more you than any… I dunno… regular old book of poetry. It’s a you kind of gift, so it’s perfect.”

Dipper cupped his cheek, lifting up to kiss his smile. “Glad you like it.”

“Yeah, well… I like you. A lot.” Wirt tucked the book into his shopping bag for safe keeping.

_I love you_. It washed through him, had him taking Wirt’s hand and lacing their fingers. “So food because I’m starving. Romantic waterfront still on?”

Wirt sidled close and nodded, the pair of them starting back for the entrance to the cemetery. “Yeah. If you think our brains can handle it. Or my heart. It’s still fluttering from your present. Sweet attentions and affections make my heart take flight, as the sight of your smile awakens love’s delight.”

Dipper felt his own heart flutter, ducking his head to hide the blush. “I think we can manage. Your brain seems pretty stable again, poetic pilgrim.”

“I’m not that surprised.” Wirt squeezed his hand. “The paranormal can be pretty inspiring, after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Witch Way Gifts is a real shop in Salem and everything they bought there - aside from Wirt's paranormal poetry book - is actually there (even the book that reminds Wirt of Lorna!). The only thing that's fictional is the the price of the witch balls xD We're going to pretend the one Dipper buys for Mabel is actually in a teenager's price range (though he does get paid from his channel, so it's not like he's relying on pocket money, but still, he's a sensible guy). So yeah, the prices are where we get fictional. And other things, of course, but that's one of them. Just wanted to throw the shop out there in case anyone was interested in seeing the things they looked at.


	7. Chapter 7

Two days after the date, Dipper was still mentally fawning over it. Nothing could have made it better. Well, maybe meeting an actual witch, but they could always go back. It was only a train ride away, after all, and he didn’t really think that Wirt would mind taking him again. He wasn’t sure if he’d go for meeting a witch, but Wirt kept surprising him. How he managed to be both anxious and agreeable was a mystery.

He loved that Wirt was a mystery. He loved that he didn’t necessarily have to solve that mystery. Sure, he wanted to understand him better and find out every little fact he could, but it wasn’t the same. For him, a mystery typically involved the uncovering of said mystery, the hunt for puzzle pieces, putting the puzzle together, standing back and admiring a job well done, and moving on.

He could probably gather pieces forever and still not have the puzzle solved. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to get to the solution and be done. He enjoyed simply knowing there was a mystery there and loving it. Loving him.

He thought the words too often about too many things, and it was a little pathetic. It was very pathetic. But it was hard to not be giddy with the emotion, especially when there was so little around to distract him. His nightmares had retreated and, he hoped, were gone for good. He should probably feel a little guilty for not having shared that problem, but what was the point when there was nothing to talk about? The situation had sorted itself out, and all he’d needed was a long-limbed poet to snuggle with.

Maybe they’d be back at the end of the month, when he had to return home and return to the world of school and away from the lazy world of Lakeville, city of lakes, but they were gone now. And even if they did return, sleepless nights were nothing unfamiliar during the school year. And then, come summer, he’d have Wirt back and the nightmares would go away again.

It was a bleak prospect, actually, the assumption that the nightmares would remain strong for such a long time, but they’d been strong nightmares.

He wiggled a bit, head dropping from Wirt’s shoulder to his lap. They were snuggled on the couch, both with books in hand, and it was still a delight that he was reading the spellbook. The murder mystery Dipper had been reading was set aside, the words on the page not nearly as interesting to look at as his boyfriend.

His lips moved, mumbling the words under the sound of the television that only Mabel and Greg even paid attention to. When Dipper was jabbed in the face by a ball of yarn, he scooted closer to Wirt and glared at his sister before chucking it right back at her.

Wirt glanced down and lowered the book. “Are we under attack?” he asked, lips quirking up.

“Yeah!” Greg grabbed the bouncing ball of yarn and tossed it right back at the pair on the couch. “Bombs away!”

Dipper groaned when he was hit in the face again. This was why cuddling was so much safer in Wirt’s room, but their siblings had dragged them out. He tossed the yarn Greg’s way, using much less force that he had when throwing it at Mabel.

Greg laughed as he caught it. Miraculously he refrained from throwing it back at them and chose instead to roll it to Jason Funderburker in an attempt to inspire a game out of the frog. It didn’t work. He crawled over and flopped on their frog for some cuddling instead, then rolled onto his back to look at Wirt and Dipper upside-down.

Wirt had taken to tracing the pine tree on Dipper’s hat, eyes back to scanning the pages of the book he was reading, now at a level for his boyfriend to read along if he so chose. They could read anytime, Greg decided. Like after he and Mabel went to bed. He knew they stayed up late reading or talking or doing their boyfriend things anyway.

“We should play a game,” Greg piped up, all seriousness and he looked to Mabel for her vote. “Can we all play a game? Or go to the park? Oh! Or go to the park to play a game!” He astounded himself with his own brilliant idea.

Mabel giggled, her knitting on hold anyway while the yarn she needed was bounced around. “We should go! What game do you want to play at the park, Greg?”

“Any game!” he declared, getting to his feet. “But it needs to be something Wirt and Dipper will have fun playing, too.”

“Aw, Greg, you know I have fun whenever we play make-believe games,” Wirt offered, flicking his gaze up from the pages.

“Yeah, well, there’s four of us plus Jason Funderburker, so it’s gotta be better than what we usually do. Beans. I wish we had a mystery adventure we could play.” Greg puffed up his cheeks as he thought about it and Wirt caught on quickly.

Wirt was agreeable enough when it came to games, so it wasn’t his attention Greg was wanting to catch and keep. Masking his small laugh as a cough, he closed his book and sank back against the couch cushions, careful not to disturb Dipper from his lap. His little brother wasn’t the only person who liked Dipper’s attention, after all.

“I bet we could come up with something,” he assured him, smile widening when Greg shot him a very unimpressed look that rivaled his own. “What?”

“There aren’t any mysteries here. You said so yourself.”

Ah. Right. “I didn’t say there weren’t any mysteries. I said there weren’t any monsters. You don’t need monsters for mysteries.”

“There are mysteries everywhere,” Dipper put in, not bothering to hide his laugh. “We can go to the park and try to uncover one. I’m all for that.”

Greg perked up. “Really? Oh boy! Come on, Mabel! Come on, Jason Funderburker! Let’s go find our shoes!” He scooped up the frog and waited for Mabel to join him before darting to his room.

Wirt stretched, then slumped to the side, half draped over Dipper as he grinned at him. “I think he’s still trying to win you over as his second big brother.”

“He doesn’t really have to try when he’s already managed it.” Dipper reached up, threading his fingers through Wirt’s hair and was more than content with continuing to lie there and pet him. Without a doubt, he was nothing but a lovesick moron. Knowing it didn’t stop him.

On a pleased sigh, Wirt’s eyes closed as he soaked up the sensation, just enjoying being close together. “‘Give me the splendid silent sun, with all his beams full-dazzling.’” He stroked Dipper’s side lazily, then bent down to capture his lips. As the soft kiss ended, he gave him a pat. “Come on. As nice as this is, we’ve got siblings to entertain.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dipper stretched like a lazy, pleased cat, and only smiled when he heard thuds behind the couch.

“I threw your shoes! Let’s go!” Mabel called from down the hall.

“Impatient siblings.” Dipper finally sat up, twisting to rise. “So I’m thinking we get ice cream after the park. There a place close enough for that?”

Wirt bumped their shoulders, affection in his smile. “Yeah. Just a couple blocks from the park.” When Greg bounded down the hall, tea kettle on his head along with their frog and a red hat clutched in his hands, Wirt stood up and nabbed him before he could try any flying leaps on the two of them. “You were in my room,” he accused playfully, lifting him up. “What have I told you about messing with my things?”

“Always do it!” Greg reached up and stuck the cone hat on his head. “Now you have hat hair so you have to wear it.”

Wirt threatened to drop him and Greg laughed as he held on, then stuck his tongue out at his older brother when he actually set him down. Wirt returned the favor before spinning Greg around to face the hallway. “If you’re not a complete menace to society, we’ll get ice cream after the park, so go ask Jonathan for some money while Dipper and I put our shoes on.”

“Whoa! Yeah!” Not needing any further prompting, Greg was off again, calling for his dad all the while.

Dipper hopped up and grabbed Wirt’s shoulders, pressing their lips together so the words on the tip of his tongue wouldn’t spill out. The emotion behind them poured into the kiss instead, Dipper lifting to his toes as his hands slid down so he could bend Wirt back a little. _I love you!_ “You’re so cute,” he breathed, lips still moving over his boyfriend’s. “You’re so freaking cute. I can’t handle it.”

“I’m- oh, um-” It was taking him a minute to catch up, though his body didn’t seem to need the extra time as his arms looped around Dipper’s neck, fingers curling in his shirt. “Okay,” Wirt eventually accepted and kissed back, lips parting to allow him in. “I don’t know what I did, but okay.”

He didn’t answer right away, more eager to happily explore his mouth. He broke it on a laugh. “Nothing, really. Just the way you are with Greg, and just-” He laughed again, kissed him again. “It just kind of hit me. Sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. It’s fine, I’m not- I’m not complaining.” Wirt smiled sheepishly, shrugging as he adjusted his hat, leaving one hand at the nape of Dipper’s neck. “Very much the opposite of complaining. I’ll definitely act like a dorky older brother more often if that’s the kind of reaction I’m going to get.”

Dipper grinned, more than willing to capture his lips again, but Mabel clapped her hands twice to get their attention. “As much as I’d really like to just let you lovebirds keep kissing, Greg’s on the porch and you guys don’t even have your shoes on yet.”

Clearing his throat, cheeks bright pink, Wirt inched his way around Dipper to the back of the couch. “Right. Sorry. We’ll be- we’ll be right there-” He glanced down to make sure the shoes he was grabbing were his, then blinked as he noticed the ones for him were not the same color. “Oh. You couldn’t find my other black shoe? That’s weird… I thought I left them together by my dresser,” he mused, brow furrowing as he wondered where it could’ve ended up, putting on the mismatched shoes nonetheless. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

Mabel tilted her head to the side, glancing at her twin. He just shrugged, stepping into his sneakers and tugging on the heel. “I saw it, but you wear two different shoes all the time.”

“What? Is it- does it really seem like all the time?” he squeaked, fumbling with his laces and having to start over. “Jeez… um. Well, it’s… it’s not intentional. It’s only when I’m distracted, usually. Lost in thought and stuff.”

Both twins blinked twice, first at Wirt then at one another. “Dipper,” Mabel began, tone serious, “if you do not keep this adorable bundle of fail with you forever, I will be so disappointed.”

“He’s adorable, but he’s not fail.”

“Dipper, don’t make me disown you.”

He grinned. “That’s not how that works.”

“Dipper!”

“Oh my god, go away. We’ll be out in a second.”

“Oh my gosh.” Wirt had finally straightened but was hiding his face in his hands. “You guys seriously thought I did this on purpose? And I do it often enough that you actually noticed? I didn’t think anyone noticed! I sometimes don’t even notice!”

“Well, you were wearing two different shoes in The Unknown,” Mabel pointed out. “I’ve looked at those pictures a million times.”

“And you wore two different ones at the party we had at the Shack. I was kind of busy noticing everything about you there,” Dipper added, looping his arm around Wirt’s waist.

“Plus, you can be anxious about things and two different shoes seems like it would be something you would be anxious about, but you’re not.”

They nodded, in sync with one another.

Wirt sighed, removing his hands from his face to take off his hat and rake his fingers through the fluffed up mess it left behind. “Yeah, well… those first two times I was definitely lost in thought before going outside. My mind was very much elsewhere. And I dunno… shoes aren’t something that make me that anxious. Or if they do, it’s not often.”

“Okay, Dipper, you’re right. He’s not fail, he’s just adorable. Now come on! Let’s go to the park!” She spun and bounded out the door to sweep Greg up.

Dipper pressed a kiss to his temple. “Intentional or not, it’s still a cute habit.”

Wirt pursed his lips, cheeks puffing out a little as he blushed. “Guess that makes it a bit more bearable,” he murmured, placing his hat back on and draping his arm across Dipper’s shoulders. “Let’s go before she comes back and finds more of my failures to point out. Plus we’ve got to find you and Greg a mystery.”

The park was an easy walk from their house, much of it shaded by trees lining the sidewalk. A frog hopped out between them towards the street, much to Wirt’s surprise as frogs tended to spend most of their time near the lakes or at least away from the streets, and Greg and Jason Funderburker gave chase as it fled along the pavement. The frog was probably just lost. Frogs didn’t tend to adhere to convention around here anyway. Jason Funderburker didn’t even hibernate for starters.

Greg gave up the chase when the park provided a decent enough distraction. A group of kids around his age were gathered on the playground, Wirt’s brow furrowing when he recognized a small handful of them from Greg’s class. Maybe they’d steer clear of there and stick to other parts of the park. Greg liked climbing trees, after all; they could find him some trees to climb. A tree mystery. Sure, it would work.

“What kind of mysteries should we be on the lookout for?” Greg asked, tucking their frog under one arm as he scanned the park.

“Well, you live here so you know what the patterns are, detective.” Dipper swung him up, settling him onto his shoulders. “The first step in uncovering a mystery is finding what doesn’t fit the pattern.”

“Oh.” Greg’s eyes went wide with interest and he tapped his chin as he looked around for anything unusual. Other than a few more frogs clustered under a picnic bench, he didn’t really see much that didn’t fit the pattern. “Huh. No one’s swimming in the pond. That’s kinda weird for summer.” Greg pointed out at the body of water visible beyond the playground and through the trees, then glanced back at the picnic table. “Not even those frogs.”

Wirt arched an eyebrow, his attention drawn away from Greg’s classmates. “Yeah. That is kinda weird. Maybe somebody threw garbage in the pond again.”

“Then the litterer must be punished.” Greg punched the palm of his hand, a serious look on his face. “The pond is their home!”

“Are there usually this many frogs?” Mabel wondered, counting seven under the table.

“Not in the middle of summer. I mean, they usually like to come out in spring.” Wirt rubbed the back of his neck, mulling it over. “I wonder if their breeding patterns have been off this year. With global warming and all or something.”

Dipper bit his lip, bouncing Greg as he bounced. Was there an actual, for real mystery going on here? He didn’t have a journal on hand, not having expected anything more than a game to play. But his mind was whirling, skipping over facts he’d researched on Massachusetts when he’d thought the two brothers hadn’t escaped The Unknown. There was plenty of potential for mysterious creatures. “Maybe. But I don’t think they’d increase this much and, if they had, wouldn’t they be in the water? Or at least closer to it in this heat.”

“Not if someone poisoned their pond,” Greg reminded him, then tapped Dipper on the head to get him to put him down, even if the bouncing was fun. “I’ll go inspect the water!”

“We both will.” Dipper headed for the water’s edge, intrigued, and Mabel shook her head.

“He’s got his conspiracy face on,” she told Wirt, giggling.

Wirt rolled his eyes and huffed out a laugh. “A frog conspiracy. Who would’ve thought.” Shaking his head, his smile turned fond as he watched their brothers examine the pond with equal amounts of curiosity. Okay, so maybe he understood why Dipper had felt the need to kiss him after he goofed off with Greg, he reflected as his heart skipped a beat. It didn’t help that his conspiracy face was just as cute as he remembered it being in Gravity Falls, and on their date to a degree. “The curious case of the copious frogs. In Lakeville, city of lakes. You know, if it actually is some kind of mystery, I’m not that surprised that it has to do with frogs.”

“Neither am I. Our first mystery together was about frogs. Why not get back to our roots?”

“True. Unless you count being lost in The Unknown as the first mystery, though we did solve the frog one first.” He shrugged, then nodded towards the pond. “Want to see if they’ve found anything?”

“Absolutely!” She linked their arms, tugging him along. “Maybe it’s one of those lake monsters Dipper says Massachusetts has in spades.”

Wirt paled quickly, stumbling over his own feet as he stopped and Mabel kept going. “Wait, _what_?”

She paused and glanced back. “What do you mean what?” Mabel laughed, patting his arm fondly. “You don’t know about them? I mean, I don’t know a ton because when Dipper goes on a roll, he’s hard to keep up with. But I remember about a dozen creatures and things that he’s been curious about that live in this state. Lake serpents, demons, a... a bird thing? I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him.”

Wirt’s eyes rounded and his gaze darted to his little brother, still smiling and chattering to Dipper about something or other. His pulse drummed loudly in his ears. “You haven’t told Greg about any of that, have you? I mean, ghosts are fine. Ghosts are one thing. But you didn’t-” He swallowed and looked to Mabel, a pleading glimmer in his eyes. “You didn’t tell Greg?”

“No.” Her brow furrowed a moment, then cleared on a little “oh” of understanding. “Don’t want to scare him, huh? Okay. Nothing’s bothered you the whole time you’ve lived here, so this is probably nothing too.”

“Yeah, no, I’m sure this is nothing. It’s just- he cried. He cried because he was afraid of turning into a tree here and Greg doesn’t cry. He doesn’t get so scared that he wakes up screaming in the night, that’s not him. Telling him things like that couldn’t get us here… it helped him. It might’ve been stupid of me, to lie to him, but I didn’t think things could… I mean, I’d never seen- I just didn’t want him to be scared.” Wirt squeezed her arm.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. You and I won’t let him be scared. Maybe we can steer them away from frog adventures if Dipper gets it in his head that there’s a creature around.” She reached up with her free hand and poked his cheek to try and make him smile. “Whomp whomp.”

It worked. Wirt ducked his head, lips quirking up. “Okay. Okay, I’m sure this is just a weird thing with the frogs and that’s fine. That’s completely fine.” When he lifted his head again, his smile was grateful. “Thanks. I know you won’t let him be scared.”

“Mabel! Wirt! Come here!” The boy in question called over to them.

“We’ve been summoned.” Mabel giggled, tugging Wirt the rest of the way. “What’d you find, detectives?”

Dipper glanced up, crouched down. “The water’s not poisoned, but I don’t blame anyone for not wanting to get in. It’s got a mucous layer over it, which is one of the signs of the giant-”

He broke off only because Mabel clapped a hand over his mouth. “Shh!”

He tilted his head back. “You shh. Get off, Mabel!”

“Giant what?” Greg asked, hands on his hips as he watched them tussle, only to be tugged away a bit by his brother.

“Giant algae problem,” Wirt told him quickly and quietly so Dipper couldn’t hear to correct him. “Algae loves to grow on- on stagnant water. And it’s been a big problem lately. And Dipper’s right. That’s why people aren’t swimming. They don’t want to get all mucousy and algae...y.”

“Oh.” Greg’s brow furrowed as he considered that explanation. “How come you didn’t say that before?”

Wirt stared at him a beat. “I forgot. And then I just remembered.”

The twins quick fight ended when Dipper managed to get her into a headlock, the two of them nearly ending up in the water. Both grimaced. “Oh my god. _What_ is so bad about talking about a giant frog, for crying out loud?”

Wirt flinched and Greg’s interest was immediately captured. “Giant frog?” he asked, eyes going wide with excitement. “How giant? Bigger than Jason Funderburker?” He held up the rather large specimen of American bullfrog who croaked his displeasure at being brought into this.

“God, I hope not,” Wirt muttered under his breath, more for the sake that they could play this off as unsupernatural-like as possible.

“Well, yeah.” Dipper shook his twin off, ignoring her dramatic eye roll. “There’s been a migratory giant frog roaming Massachusetts since the forties. I could be wrong, though. I didn’t study it in huge detail, just some basic facts.”

A quick swell of relief washed over Wirt. There was nothing overtly monster-sounding about this giant frog so far. Greg loved frogs. To him a giant frog would be the eighth wonder of the world or something. Wirt’s shoulders relaxed and the tension eased out of his spine as the seven-year-old bounced in place.

“Wow!” Greg hugged the frog in his arms as he grinned, only for it to falter. “Migratory?”

“You know, like when birds fly south for the winter. They’re migrating. Moving,” Wirt explained.

“Oh.” His smile returned. “Oh boy, I hope it’s a giant frog and not a giant algae problem!”

“Oh, yeah?” Dipper crouched down, letting the odd behavior of the other two slide in favor of tickling Greg’s sides. “I’ll see what I can do about that.”

Delighted giggles spilled from him, then Greg locked his arms around him for hug. “We could go on a giant frog hunt! Just like the one me and Wirt went on when we found Jason Funderburker! Except giant!”

Wirt couldn't help his smile, exchanging a quick glance and shrug with Mabel. “Well, maybe not just like it. I don't think Mom would be too keen on letting us keep a giant frog.”

“Who wants a giant frog when you've already got a frog as cool as Jason Funderburker?” Dipper returned the hug, lifting him up for a spin. The chance to explore a mystery was always a thrill.

“Yeah!” Greg agreed. “Jason Funderburker's the best, 'cause he's our frog.” He threw a smile Wirt's way over Dipper's shoulder. “But it would still be cool to go on a giant frog hunt for a giant frog with all four of us.”

“We can do that.” Mabel laughed, shaking her head at them. Greg's delight was too cute, and Dipper's grin was contagious. “How about it, Wirt?”

Wirt shrugged. “Yeah, sure. I don't see why not.” Providing the only mysterious thing about the giant frog was that it was giant. He'd have to pull Dipper aside when he got a chance and press for details on this migratory amphibian.

“Cool.” Dipper swung Greg back onto his shoulders, Jason Funderburker perched atop his hat. “So from what I remember, the frog likes seclusion. He’s probably found another pond to spend the day in with all these people around, but he was definitely hanging around last night.”

Grin wide, he let his shoulders rise and fall quickly to bounce the boy. As much as the idea of having a creature to research and find delighted him, the summer still stretched out before them. A giant frog wasn’t a threat, the mucous it had left behind likely to dissipate as the water shifted and the smaller frogs harmless if plentiful. He wanted to give Greg some fun and, really, was up for having some. “But there’s no way we walked all the way over here just to head back so I can do some research. How about a game, Greg?”

“Yeah! Do you know how to play two old cat?” Greg looked from Dipper to Mabel expectantly.

They exchanged looks and shrugs though one was hindered by Greg. “Nope,” was said in unison.

“That’s okay! I’ll show you!” Greg offered, ignoring the way Wirt rolled his eyes despite the fond smile.

“Greg, you change the rules to two old cat every time we play.”

“Well, yeah. Why would I leave the rules the same if I don’t have to?”

Mabel giggled. “So what are the rules this time, Greg?”

“First we’re gonna need a lot of sticks, some leaves, and a tennis ball.” He nodded seriously. “And two old cats. I’ll go find the cats.”

“Well, if you don’t find any cats, there are plenty of frogs that you could choose from.” Wirt gestured back towards the picnic table.

Greg laughed. “Wirt, you can’t play two old cat with frogs. Unless it’s Jason Funderburker. But he’s a participant.”

“I am so confused.”

“I am so intrigued.” Mabel laughed, taking Greg from her twin’s shoulders. “Let’s go find some cats, corporal!”

“Cat patrol!” The little boy declared happily as the two of them sped off, leaving Jason Funderburker in the care of Wirt for the time being.

He scooped up the frog, cradling him carefully in his arms as he flashed Dipper a sheepish smile. “I know it may seem confusing, but he’s usually able to make something work out. And usually without the cats, too. There’ll be some way to crown victors.” His smile turned into more of a grin. “Loser buys the winner’s ice cream?”

He shrugged, laughing. “There are no losers when ice cream’s the end game, but you’re on, man.”

The two of them set about gathering some sticks and Wirt found four lost tennis balls over by the courts. Once the leaves had been gathered and one stray cat located and coaxed over to them, Greg changed the name to one old cat - which was still a perfectly acceptable name for their game. He explained to the twins how he tried to play it in The Unknown with his animal friends before they got chased by a gorilla and before he and Wirt started a benefit concert to save the school.

Points were kept by leaves - though both Dipper and Greg had the tendency to try and sneak extra leaves into their piles throughout the game and the one old cat was more of a mascot than anything. It was sort of like croquet - or mini golf - once they turned the sticks into wickets of sorts, and the goal was to roll the tennis ball through as many of the wickets as possible to the old cat sleeping at the end of the course on as few rolls as possible. Dipper didn’t even need to be cheating to calculate the best angle, but he was up against Mabel, mini golf queen. If you got the ball through one wicket, you got one leaf. If you got it through two wickets in one turn, you got two leaves plus an extra for doing it in one turn. And so on and so forth.

On their “best two out of three” game, since the first was obviously a warm-up, Greg rolled his tennis ball a little too hard and it bounced over to the playground. Not deterred by the fact that he missed all the wickets he’d been aiming for, Greg laughed and ran after it. Wirt used the quick break to sidle over to his boyfriend and pepper soft kisses along his neck. His competitive streak - especially when it came to beating Mabel since she “already has mini golf” - was completely adorable. Alpha twin inferiority complex, Mabel called it. Wirt just called it really cute.

“Mm. Interference,” Dipper claimed, ducking his head to playfully rub their noses together.

“There's nothing in the rules that says I can't enjoy my boyfriend.” Wirt grinned, his nose scrunching instinctively. “And even if there was, then just call it payback for being adorable. Trying to even the score since you keep distracting me with it.”

“And you doing your nose scrunch thing isn't distracting?” Dipper returned the grin, then kissed his nose. “If Mabel wins, I'm blaming you.”

“I will accept the blame happily,” he replied, then snuck a kiss before noise from the playground caught his attention. Big brother instincts and natural tendency to assume the worst had him searching for Greg, at ease when he noticed that he seemed to be fine. Until he noticed just who was standing in front of him. “Oh no.” Wirt broke away from Dipper and made a beeline for his brother.

Andy McAllen had Greg's tennis ball, and he didn't appear to be giving it back. Unless one counted bouncing it off of Greg's forehead, which Wirt absolutely didn't. When Greg didn't flinch or react other than a quiet, “please give it back now,” Andy did it again.

“Hey! Drop that ball!” Wirt demanded and both little boys looked to him.

“Finder's keepers,” the brat sneered, giving Greg a shove when he tried to take it back. “Don't touch me, freak!”

Greg took a few steps back while Wirt advanced on him. “What did you say?”

“It’s okay, Wirt.” Greg tugged on his sleeve. “I can find another ball. It’s fine.”

“No, it's not fine. Give it back. Now,” Wirt demanded, holding his hand out for it.

Andy McAllen clutched it to his chest. “I don't have to listen to you.”

“No, but you’re going to.” Coming up behind Wirt, Dipper fixed a glare on the boy. His twin laid her hands on Greg’s shoulders and tugged him back protectively. “Hand the ball over, kid.”

“Or what?” Though still defiant, Andy McAllen observed the twins with trepidation as he stepped back. “You can't do anything to me.” His gaze flicked to Greg, who shrunk under his glare. “You're just as much of a wuss as your wimpy brother, getting bigger kids to fight for you.”

“I don't want to fight, Andy. I just want my ball back,” Greg told him, chewing on his lower lip.

“You’re not a wuss, Greg. You just have people who love you enough to help,” Mabel assured him, rubbing his shoulders gently.

“Okay, I’m not playing this game.” Dipper moved quickly, lifting the bully right off the ground by the scruff of his t-shirt. “Do not think I won’t smack a child as rotten as you. Put the ball down, and don’t make me tell you again.”

The kid's eyes widened and he dropped the tennis ball without another word. Wirt plucked it up and handed it to Greg before placing his hand on Dipper's shoulder. He didn't take his eyes off Andy McAllen though, making sure his glare conveyed warning.

Though he really wanted to just drop him and go, Dipper carefully and deliberately lowered him back to his feet. “Beat it. And don’t let me catch you messing with Greg again.”

Though he shot Dipper a dirty look, Andy McAllen did beat it, retreating beyond the play structure to put as much distance between himself and the bigger kids as possible. They'd created a bit of a scene, some of the other children watching from the swings and slide. Shuffling his feet, Greg looked down and rolled the tennis ball between his palms, only stopping to rub his forehead a little.

Wirt crouched down in front of him. “Are you okay?” he asked, trying to make eye contact with him as he nodded. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” But Greg still wouldn't look at him. “Can we go back to playing?”

Wirt pressed his lips together, hesitant to leave it at that, but it wasn't as if he was surprised. Greg didn't fixate on his encounters with Andy McAllen, at least not outwardly. Not unless he was forced to. Wirt glanced up at Mabel, glad that she was at least offering some comforting contact for him.

She tried a smile, reassuring him. “Absolutely, we can. We didn’t find that cat to stop halfway through the game. Right, Dipper?”

Her twin had tugged the bill of his cap low, hiding his face so he could reign in old wounds, but he looked up when she spoke and his gaze went right to Greg. There was no way he was letting his happy-go-lucky honorary little brother feel bad about a stupid bully. He went to him quickly, scooping him up. He didn’t swing him onto his shoulders like normal, instead hugging him.

“Bullies suck,” he whispered. “The way they make you feel small and helpless and dumb. But you’re none of that, Greg. You’re a strong, amazing kid and we’re not letting that little jerk ruin our fun in the park. Okay?”

“Okay,” Greg mumbled against his shoulder, returning the hug after a beat. For a moment he just held on, hiding his face, but when Wirt took a concerned step toward them, he looked up at Dipper with a serious expression. “Can I redo my turn? I bet I can get it through two things this time.”

Dipper’s grin flashed. “Yeah, man, the first one didn’t even count. Practice shot.”

Greg lit up, whatever insecurities brought up by the run-in pushed aside as he pointed towards their set up. “Let’s go finish! It’s a really close game and I want to see who’s gonna win!”

Wirt reached out and ruffled his hair, a weight being lifted off his chest when Greg accepted it and smiled at him. “I bet it’s going to be Mabel,” Wirt feigned a whisper to the child’s delight.

Dipper glared, lips twitching. “It is not.”

“Is so,” Wirt continued, whisper still too-loud, and Greg laughed.

“Not if me and Greg team up.” Much like his currently giggling twin, Dipper rubbed his cheek to Greg’s fondly. “How about it?”

“That’s cheating, Dipper!” Mabel protested.

“No, it’s not. Teams aren’t against the rules.”

“He’s right! We never said anything about teams.” Greg chirped, tipping his head back so he could look at Mabel upside-down. “Me and Dipper are a team now!”

“Wirt and I get to be a team then! Older siblings versus younger ones!” Mabel decided, hooking an arm around Wirt’s.

Wirt nodded, linking back. “We can take them.”

“Take us out for ice cream maybe!” Greg retorted.

Dipper ended up having to take them for ice cream - what with Greg having no cents at all to help pay - but he very happily put the blame on his adorable boyfriend’s cute face and adorable laughter rather than Greg’s tendency to get distracted into missing his shots. On the way to the parlor, he slid his hand into Wirt’s, lacing their fingers easily while his teammate and the trusty frog perched on his shoulders and hat respectively.

“Alpha twin! Alpha twin!”

“Shut up, Mabel.”

Wirt laughed, but squeezed his hand and leaned in to press his lips to Dipper’s cheek. “If it’s any consolation, you’re the alpha twin in my book,” he told him quietly.

“You’re only saying that so I’ll forgive you for winning.” He grinned, delighted with him. “It’s working.”

“Good.” He returned the grin with a smile of his own. “All part of my master plan.”

“Does letting me get double scoops fall into your master plan?” Greg asked.

Though his first inclination was to say no, given the afternoon they’d had Wirt reconsidered. “Maybe.”

“Yes. I’m buying, so you can have two scoops. Mabel can deal with you when you’re hyped up on sugar later.”

She skipped a little. “I’m okay with that.”

“We can have a dance party, Mabel!” Greg cheered.

Wirt shook his head, but his smile lingered even with the prospect of a sugar rush. At least things still seemed normal. That was good. For Dipper and Greg both. Wirt hadn’t missed how personally his boyfriend had taken Andy McAllen. He lifted their joined hands to press a kiss to the back of Dipper’s, only releasing it so he could hold open the door to the ice cream parlor, allowing the twins and his brother to enter first.

“Hey, Wirt!”

He blinked, looking into the shop to find Sara waving at him from a table by the window, Isabelle and Taylor and Jason Funderberker sitting with her. Jason Funderberker… Wirt managed not to bristle, conscious of Dipper in his periphery, and waved back before letting the door close behind him.

“Hey, guys,” he greeted. “What’s up?”

Sara shrugged, smiling easily at the group. “Just getting some ice cream. Hanging out. You guys should join us. We’ll pull up a few more chairs.”

“Oh, um…” Wirt glanced at Dipper and Mabel for their call.

“Yes! We’ll be right there!” Mabel cheered, agreeing for them. She nabbed Greg from her brother. “Let’s pick out some ice cream flavors, corporal. Two scoops requires big decisions.”

“You’re absolutely right, General Mabel,” Greg agreed. “To the ice cream!”

As the two of them ran ahead to peruse the glass display holding the tubs of ice cream, Wirt rubbed the back of his neck and offered the small group a hesitant smile. “Yeah. Okay. Um… what she said.”

“Cool.” Taylor gave him a thumbs up, adjusting her glasses as she grinned and Sara nodded.

“Alright, just come over when you’ve got your ice cream.”

“Right.” Wirt bounced on his heels a bit, then took Dipper’s hand before following Mabel. “It’s- it’s alright with you, right?”

“It’s fine, man.” But he cupped Wirt’s chin and kissed him soundly, staking his claim. He wasn’t competing with a dweeb exactly, not when his boyfriend didn’t even like the guy. It was just a kiss because they hadn’t kissed in a while, and who cared who saw?

He really didn’t want to be jealous of a dweeb. Ugh. “So waffle cone or bowl?”

“Um…” Wirt blinked slowly as color flooded his cheeks, stunned for a moment before a pleased grin made itself known. “Wow. I mean, um, bowl. Yeah, bowl.”

“Okay.” Kissing just for his adorable reactions was good too. He nipped his lower lip teasingly. “Mine. You getting two scoops?”

“Your-? Uh, no. One’s… one’s fine.” Wirt licked his lips, gaze darting down to their hands as he rubbed his thumb along the back of Dipper’s. “What’s- what’s yours? And um, what are you getting?”

“Two. It's a two kind of day since I'm feeling kind of greedy.” Dipper scanned the ice cream flavors, making his choices quickly, then slanted a look that was all mischief in Wirt's direction. “And it's you, by the way. You're mine.”

“Oh.” Stomach filling with butterflies, Wirt's flush deepened and his hold on Dipper's hand tightened. He pointedly looked to the ice cream selections despite knowing what he wanted, the small, giddy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth giving his train of thought away. “Yeah, I am. You're... you're mine, too.”

“Can't argue with facts.”

“Except you do it all the time,” his twin teased.

Dipper stuck his tongue out at her. “Alright, what do you guys want? Come on.”

“One scoop strawberry and one scoop rocky road!” Greg chirped. “On a cone!”

“In a cup. You always drop your cones,” Wirt reminded him.

“Oh, right.”

Behind the counter, a young woman filled a bowl with two large scoops for him and set it on the glass for Mabel to pass over. “Cotton candy and peanut butter. In a bowl too, but can you put a cone on top?”

“Gross.”

“Ice cream snob.”

“Having functioning taste buds doesn't make me a snob.”

Mabel flicked her hair, all defiance as she tossed in, “Sprinkles too, please.”

“Gross,” was repeated, the twins exchanging glares.

Wirt huffed out a laugh, then addressed the young woman. “I'll have coconut almond with hot fudge, please.”

“Yum,” Greg hummed around his spoon, having already taken a huge chunk out of the rocky road. “Good choice, Wirt.”

When it came to his little brother and ice cream there wasn't ever a bad choice, really. Wirt knew it was only a matter of time before he'd be ordering concoctions that rivaled Mabel's.

Dipper shook his head, tossing out his own order of rocky road and butter pecan. Mabel’s sing-songed “boring” was met with an “eat me” that had her snickering.

Eyes rolling, her twin set his bowl on the counter by the register and tugged his wallet from his back pocket. He passed over his debit card and punched in his pin when prompted, and frowned when “Approved” wasn’t what popped up. “That’s weird.”

“Do you have your ID?” the girl asked. “There’s a flag here. One of those suspicious activity things.”

Dipper muttered under his breath, but pulled out his ID and his card, passing both to her to be checked. “Oh, yeah. California. This happened to me when I went to Missouri State last semester. I had to call the bank so they’d remove the flag.”

She handed both back to him. “Just swipe your card again and I’ll override it, okay? I mean, you don’t really hear the name-”

“Dipper,” he cut in. “It’s- I know what the ID says, but it’s Dipper. I go by Dipper.”

“Okay, sure.” When he swiped this time, the card was approved without a problem, but now he had to get in touch with the bank. Great. “Have a good day.”

He shoved his wallet back into his pocket. “Thanks, you too.”

Greg blinked up at him, eyes wide and ice cream almost forgotten in light of this new information. “Your name's not actually Dipper?” he gasped, one sticky hand pressing to his cheek in shock. “There's still so much about the world I don't know. What is your name then?”

Wirt plucked several napkins from the dispenser on the counter for the inevitable mess. “As far as you're concerned, Greg, that is his name. Why don't you go by Gregory?”

“Because that's what Mom and Dad call me when I'm in trouble. And I don't like it as much.” Understanding lit up his face as he looked back to Dipper. “Do you not like your name?”

“I hate my name,” he confirmed.

“Dad’s the only one who ever uses it, and that’s only when he’s really, really mad,” Mabel put in. “Nobody else knows it. It’s a great big mystery!”

“It’s not a mystery. It’s just a dumb name.” He tugged at his cap, shading his eyes with the bill. “Can we just go sit down?”

“Yeah.” Greg leaned against his leg. “Dipper's a really cool name anyway. Nobody else has it, and it's got six letters which is nice. Six is a great number.”

He couldn’t help the grin, using his free hand to ruffle his hair. “Thanks. Come on, seriously. Your ice cream’s gonna melt.” Not minding that it was sticky, he took Greg’s hand to lead him to the waiting group.

Mabel sat first, settling Greg in the empty seat beside her when her brother relinquished him. “Hi, Sara, Isabelle, two people I don’t know yet.”

Wirt bit the inside of his cheek as Jason Funderberker offered her a wave and a smile, his hand fluttering nervously against the small of Dipper’s back still in an attempt to comfort while Greg took over introductions. “That’s Taylor!” he said while pointing to the blonde girl, then moved on. “And that’s Jason Funderberker. Not to be confused with Jason Funderburker our frog. They spell it differently.”

“These are the guys I was telling you about. Mabel and Dipper Pines,” Sara told her two friends.

“Yeah, I met Dipper at the grocery store when they were shopping.” Jason Funderberker nodded as he recalled their encounter.

“Cool. Nice to meet you,” Taylor greeted.

Wirt hesitantly sat down between Sara and Dipper, managing a smile when she flicked her gaze to him. Sitting between them also meant sitting across from Jason Funderberker. Jason Funderberker. He wasn’t going to let him bother him. No way.

Still, he scooted close enough to his boyfriend to press their knees together under the table. When he realized he was still being watched, he gave Sara his attention and noticed the question in her eyes. She was checking for his permission, though the knowing look meant their kiss had not escaped her notice. Or the rest of the table’s most likely. Cheeks warm, he nodded a little, letting her continue.

“Dipper’s Wirt’s boyfriend and he and Mabel came all the way from Oregon to see him.”

“And me!” Greg piped up.

Sara laughed. “And Greg,” she added, though she’d lost both of them at the word “boyfriend.”

“Whoa, Wirt, I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” Taylor’s eyes widened in surprise, though it didn’t take long for her to accept it. “That’s great!”

“Yeah, since when have you liked guys?” Jason Funderberker croaked.

Wirt glanced down at his ice cream and stirred it. “Well… it’s a…sort of a recent development?” he attempted to explain, uncertain of pretty much everything aside from liking Dipper and what that meant exactly.

“So you’re gay?” Funderberker asked curiously.

While he couldn’t really blame him for asking, Wirt’s shoulders hunched as he shrugged. “I don’t know…” Did he have to be? Couldn’t he just like someone? Couldn’t he just have a boyfriend? And couldn’t that boyfriend just be Dipper?

Dipper laid a hand on  his knee beneath the table, turning to brush a kiss to his temple and whisper, “It’s okay, man. There’s more than just gay and straight, and you don’t need a label.”

“Anyway,” Sara cut in, interrupting any potential Q and As centering around Wirt’s sexuality, “I was hoping to run into you guys soon,” she told the twins and Wirt. “I’m throwing a party at the end of this week. It’s really more of a summer hang out than anything, but I wanted to invite you guys. I know you’re only here for a few weeks and I thought it’d be cool to get together some more, you know? You guys interested?”

“Absolutely! Parties are so much fun! We’re definitely going.” She looked over at her twin, noting his frown, and waved her hands as her smile spread. “We’re going,” she emphasized.

“What?” Wirt’s head shot up and immediately started to shake in the negative. “Mabel, no-”

“Great!” Sara grinned, taking out her phone. “Let’s exchange numbers so I can text you the details later. If I send them to Wirt he’ll probably just delete them.”

“I wouldn’t-! Maybe. Okay, maybe I would,” he relented, shoulders sagging, the threat of a party looming overhead easily taking priority over whatever box he felt like he was being shoved into.

“Don’t worry, Wirt, there won’t be that many people there.” Sara smiled at his reluctance and gave her friend a pat on the back.

He didn’t appear reassured in the slightest, lifting a skeptical brow. “The last time you said that our entire sophomore class showed up.”

“That was my bad,” Jason Funderberker chuckled at himself. “I got carried away with the invites.”

Wirt’s lips twisted as his eyes narrowed. Of course it was Jason Funderberker’s bad. Except not really because what could be bad about being beloved by the world and- and he was doing it again. Wirt scraped a spoonful of fudge into his mouth and sucked on it to give himself something else to focus on.

Isabelle elbowed Jason Funderberker in the side. “How do you know so many people?”

“Well, it’s not exactly hard to in this town,” Sara reminded her, but she bumped Wirt’s shoulder. “Seriously. It won’t be that bad.”

“Mm.” He hummed around the spoon, still not convinced.

“Don’t worry, Sara, I’ll get these boys in action.” Mabel giggled, taking Sara’s phone to transfer her information and shot a text just to make sure it was all right. “There we go! Greg’s invited too, right?”

“Of course he is. As long as his parents and Wirt say it’s okay.”

“They’ll say it’s okay! Right, Wirt?” Greg brandished his ice cream spoon at him, but the older brother made no attempt to confirm or deny his statement. “Right, Wirt?” he continued to prod.

Dipper shook his head and leaned against Wirt, keeping his voice low. He caught his free hand, tangling their fingers. “We don’t have to go. I’ll tell Mabel to back off, okay? No pressure, man.”

Wirt glanced down at their hands as he sagged against him. Now chewing on the plastic spoon, his thoughts cycled around the idea of actually attending the party. It would be at Sara’s house, a place he was mildly familiar with. His gaze flicked up to Mabel and Greg, both bouncing with the combination of sugar rush and anticipation for a party, eyes and smiles bright.

With a sigh, he removed the spoon with a pop and shrugged. “Maybe.” He turned his attention to Dipper, a question quirking his brow. “Do you want to go?”

“I... don’t know. The Shack’s one thing. That’s home. This is different.” He shrugged, offered a small smile. “It could be worth it, maybe, y’know, if you danced with me again.”

“Oh.” Wirt cleared his throat, letting their knees bump as he answered with a smile of his own. “Well… I would. Probably. Yeah. If we went. I’d want to.”

“Cool. So maybe we’ll go.” Only vaguely aware of the conversation going on around them, Dipper dropped his gaze to their hands, shifting his grip so he could trace the lines on Wirt’s palm. “Could be fun, and we can always just leave when we want.”

“Yeah?” Swallowing, Wirt felt his pulse jump and wondered if Dipper could feel it, too, as he followed the heart line with the tip of his finger. “Okay… maybe it’ll be okay if you’re there. And, um… Mabel and Greg. Maybe.”

He was saying “maybe” too many times. He needed to shut up and he wanted to kiss the small smile still teasing the corner’s of Dipper’s mouth. Wirt leaned in, ready to claim his lips, when the moment was shattered by a croaky “aha” and the feeling of being watched. That awful, terrible feeling of being watched.

“I know where I’ve seen you before,” Jason Funderberker declared to the table, and Wirt sat back in his chair with a very dissatisfied furrow to his brow and a pout on his lips. How long had Jason Funderberker been staring at his boyfriend before recalling whatever it was that interrupted them? Wirt didn’t really want to know, since he had a feeling he’d want to punch him if he knew. “You make videos online. About monsters and stuff that Wirt got all excited about.”

“Oh yeah, I remember that,” Taylor piped up. “It was the only time I saw him actually want to look at a smart phone. You snatched it right out of Funderberker’s hands.”

“Whoa, Wirt, did you actually go all the way to meet him because you liked his videos?” Jason Funderberker practically giggled and Wirt wished he was closer so he could just shove his dumb, smiling, total package face into his ice cream cone. “And then you started dating?”

“That’s- no. No, it wasn’t-” When Wirt’s pulse jumped this time it was for an entirely different reason.

“We were already friends,” Dipper cut in. Why. Why was the dweeb the reason why Wirt had found his videos? What was life?

“For a few years,” Mabel interjected, the girl who couldn’t lie about anything smiling easily. “Dipper’s just shy about his channel.”

“Oh my god. Not throwing it in everyone’s face is not being shy about it.”

“Yeah- um… I just- I recognized his voice and- I didn’t know he made… videos and stuff.” Wirt fidgeted in his seat, moving his hand so he could lace his fingers with Dipper’s under the table. “I was- I was already planning on seeing him before that.”

Jason Funderberker almost looked disappointed. “Oh, that would’ve been romantic.”

“You mean it would’ve been creepy,” Isabelle told him, then glanced at Wirt. “Not that you’re creepy, just the situation in general, you know?”

“I don’t know, it worked out in ‘Sleepless in Seattle,’” Taylor pointed out.

“That was totally different. They were adults. In like… the eighties.”

“Yeah, no, creepy.” Dipper confirmed. “Had that happen last summer, and it was nothing but creepy.”

Mabel sniggered. “You mean hilarious. I thought Grunkle Stan was going to kill himself laughing. So this girl shows up to the Shack - the place we live and work during the summers - and she had this sweater-”

“Mabel, they don’t need to hear the story.”

Undeterred, she grinned widely. “And it wasn’t that badly made but it had Dipper’s face on it.”

“Oh my god, you’re telling the story,” Dipper muttered, shoving a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth in resignation.

“So I knew basically immediately that this was going to be amazing, right? She got there at the same time as a tour bus, so Grunkle Stan was getting ready to take this whole group on a tour and someone - not naming names, but someone - may have told her that Grunkle Stan makes Dipper answer questions as part of the tour.”

“You’re the worst person.”

Mabel’s grin only grew. “And the first thing she asks is ‘will you marry me?” The second thing was ‘wanna go fool around in the woods?’ But she was a little bit more explicit.”

“A lot more. A whole lot more.”

“Didn’t she grab you after?” Mabel happily elbowed his side. “In a few different places?”

Dipper tilted his head back, sighing and praying for patience. And for the memory to go away. “Kill me.”

“Oh my gosh. It was the _best_. Really awful, but so funny. What was her username? TwilightHuntress or something ridiculous.”

“I don’t know. I have blocked this from my brain. It never happened.”

Mabel laughed, unable to contain it. “Anyway! The moral is, yeah, no. Crazy fans are not cute. They’re just crazy.”

“Give me a monster over a crazy fangirl anyday.”

“I don’t blame you.” Sara grinned while the three other teens laughed and Wirt gaped at him. “Crazy fangirls might as well be monsters themselves.”

“That seriously happened?” Wirt shook his head. “Seriously? I mean you’re obviously attractive and everything, but that someone actually showed up like that-” His cheeks flushed and he went back to his ice cream as well. “I mean, um… yeah. Wow. Sorry you had to deal with that.”

“I’m not. It was hysterical.” Still giggling, Mabel ruffled Greg’s hair and dug into her melting ice cream. “At least it’s only been the one. Normally when fans show up, it’s to see if any of the stuff is real.”

“The one’s who stay in the Shack get nothing but disappointment, though. The real mysteries are in the woods.”

Wirt sucked more fudge off his spoon, glancing at him. “Have you shown… fans the things that are in the woods?”

“Aw. I thought we were special.” Greg pushed away his empty bowl, then gave Jason Funderburker a pat on the head, the frog replying with two blinks. “Mystery Best Friends.”

“No way.” The twins spoke and shook their heads in unison, brows and noses wrinkled in equal measure.

Mabel dropped a fond kiss to the top of Greg’s head. “You are special, baby. We don’t take just anybody on adventures.”

“Yeah. People have the videos and if they come into the Shack and ask me questions about something specific first, I tell them what they need and what to avoid. But, y’know, the people who are usually brave enough to go in and actually look for some of the creatures are the ones who can handle themselves.”

Wirt nodded while his friends hummed with interest. “That… that makes sense. Okay.” It did, since Dipper’s videos were sure to attract the more adventurous types, though he couldn’t help the pleased - if a little silly - flutter that they were special. A small smile twisted his lips as he leaned into Dipper.

“What kinds of creatures have you seen, Greg?” Sara asked the seven-year-old, letting the boyfriends try to return to their moment by getting some tall tales out of him.

“Oh boy, we saw a werefox the first time we went into the woods!” he exclaimed. “It came flying out of the bushes and Dipper tackled it!”

As he delved into the details, a little embellished, though Mabel was there to keep him on track, the rest of the table listened intently. Greg could certainly command attention and maintain an audience. Wirt turned his head, pressing a kiss to Dipper’s shoulder, then his cheek to make up for getting interrupted before. It seemed to be a running theme for their day, but as long as they did get little moments like this, Wirt was pretty sure that he could handle the occasional interruption.

Dipper turned his head, catching his lips. Soft and brief, yet the warmth lingered after it was broken. He bumped their knees together, leaving them touching, and thought of the party at the Shack. The anxious flutters of a blossoming crush seemed silly and small in comparison to the multitude of butterflies currently wreaking havoc in his stomach.

Still a lovesick idiot? Check.


	8. Chapter 8

If something could be handled over the phone, it could be handled more efficiently at a computer. At least that’s what Dipper’s motto was. He opened his laptop, humming to himself as he opened his browser and popped up his bank statement.

He’d almost forgotten to do this between hanging out at the ice cream parlour far longer than he would’ve anticipated. No one had quite been able to believe that Wirt had been the one to essentially defeat Splinter Man, and maybe Dipper had relished being able to rub that in Jason Funderberker’s harmless, dweeb face. Maybe. Just a little.

Okay, a whole lot. He’d enjoyed it a whole lot. It had given him a bad moment, though, when his actions had been questioned. Why hadn’t he done more? Well, they hadn’t exactly asked that. Wirt’s friends were all pretty nice, it seemed, but Dipper’s mind had twisted the innocent question of, “What were you doing?”

Thankfully, Mabel had smoothed over that and Greg’s chirped, “Dipper saved me!” had been enough. It hadn’t been enough to keep Dipper from mentally reliving the events in the basement and tugging his hat a little lower over his brow and missing the ponderous look Wirt had thrown him.

The kisses Dipper had pulled Wirt into the moment they’d been able to close the door of his bedroom had been for comfort as much as for enjoyment. It was a shame the theme of interruption had continued, two siblings hyped on sugar busting through the unlockable door demanding Wirt’s peanut butter sandwiches because they were, in Greg’s wise opinion, the best and needed to be devoured immediately.

While he was busy with that, the sugar rush had reminded him of the flag on his bank card. No way he was going to get embarrassed by that again, so he’d carried his laptop into the living room and let the cartoons their siblings had turned on play as background noise.

He hated dealing with the stupid bank and the stupid identity theft prevention policies that were actually very helpful. “Ugh.”

“Dipper! Do you want jelly on your sandwich?” Greg asked as he bounded in from the kitchen, vaulting over the arm of the chair only to faceplant in the cushion. What he said next was muffled until he lifted his head, blinking curiously at the annoyed twin. “Or honey. Or bananas. Or anything. Do you even want a sandwich? Wirt wants to know.”

“Anything. Whatever he’s already got out.” He grinned, far more amused by and interested in Greg than he was his computer screen. “I’m easy.”

“Okay.” Greg nodded, then raised his voice. “He said he’s easy! Whatever you want to put on his sandwich is fine!” he called to the kitchen, wiggling about on the chair until he was actually sitting in it, eyes going to the laptop. “What’re you doing?”

“Awful grown-up things.” Dipper shrugged, glancing back down. “My parents set up this side bank account for me and Mabel, and it’s got this theft protection on it. It means if there’s a weird purchase or if purchases happen in unexpected places that they’ll put a flag on your account to make it harder to use. Since we’ve never been to Massachusetts and I bought some weird stuff in Salem, the bank’s flagged the account and now I have to let them know that, yes, we’re in Mass and this is really me and Mabel using our cards. It sucks.”

“Gross,” Greg agreed. “It’s your money. You should get to use it wherever you want. Like me. I think you should switch banks. Piggy banks work really good for me. They protect my money and still let me use it whenever.”

Dipper laughed, setting the laptop aside. “Come here.” He bundled Greg in his lap when he darted over, smiling down at him. “I would totally use piggy banks if I could get away with it, but I can’t. You know Mabel and I actually get paid for posting our videos? Everytime they get watched and shared and stuff. So to get that money, we have to have a bank account. And it’s not that bad to have the protection on it. It means if I ever lose my wallet, no one else can get our money.”

“Oh. Yeah, that is pretty important, I guess,” he acknowledged with a hum, perking up when Wirt came in balancing two plates and a glass of milk. “Thanks, brother o’ mine!”

“No problem.” Wirt handed him the milk first, then the sandwich that had been cut into four, crustless triangles. The second plate was for Dipper. “You want anything else?” he asked his boyfriend, attempting to appear calm and cool and not at all nervous about whether or not he’d like his peanut butter sandwich because it was just a dumb sandwich that wasn’t even hard to make. “Like chips? I think Mabel’s getting chips.”

“Yeah.” Dipper grabbed a fistful of his sweater, pulling him down to kiss him right over Greg’s head. “Thanks. I’d probably starve without you and Mabel around.”

“No, you’d just have a lot of takeout,” Mabel put in, skipping to the chair Greg had vacated. There were indeed chips crowding her sandwich.

Dipper snorted, letting go of Wirt to pick up half his sandwich, amused to find it cut in half, and took a bite. “Mm. Honey? Nice. Honey’s always the way to go.”

“I know!” Greg puffed up his chest with a personal pride as he took a big bite of one of his triangles. “I told you Wirt makes the best peanut butter sandwiches!”

“It’s not that hard to put peanut butter and honey on bread. Anyone can do it,” he mumbled, cheeks pink from the kiss and compliment as he settled on the couch next to them.

“You still do it best,” Greg told him, then hopped off Dipper’s lap to go share the chair with Mabel and his sandwich and milk. Ob-waffle was still in effect, after all. Plus, he liked sharing the chair since it was so big and comfy.

“Thanks, Greg.” Wirt glanced towards the computer and nodded in its direction. “So, are you able to fix that bank thing?”

“Yeah, I’m just dragging my heels on it. Almost done, though, so I'll just get it done real quick. Bank stuff’s annoying.” Dipper took another bite of his sandwich, sucked a bit of honey off his thumb before setting his plate on the coffee table and grabbing his laptop again. Scooting over to sit snuggly against his boyfriend’s side, he wiggled the mouse to kick the screen back on and had to hit an “I’m still here” message on a pop-up announcing that he’d been idle too long on the web page.

When it redirected to his account summary and it’s 5-digit total balance, his cheeks puffed. “Well, crap, do I have to start over?” He flicked the computer screen as if it was its fault, then navigated through to find the form that would remove the flag from his account. Relieved to find it had auto-saved, more relieved that he didn’t have to open the first page with all its identifying information, he opened the second to continue checking the purchases that, yes, had been him or Mabel.

Wirt had been trying to watch the cartoons rather than the computer screen, but at Dipper’s huff he couldn’t help but take a peek to see what was so frustrating. His eyes widened as he glimpsed the amount of money sitting in Dipper and Mabel’s bank account. He was pretty sure his jaw dropped, too. He knew they made money off the channel, but he had no idea how _much_. While Dipper continued fiddling with the form, Wirt fixed his gaze to the TV once more and tried to cope with the fact that his boyfriend was pretty much rich. And only going to get richer if his subscribers kept increasing.

Since he could type one-handed easily enough, Dipper wrapped an arm around Wirt's waist and was relieved when he could finally hit Submit. “There. Bank crap done.”

“Good. That’s um… that’s great.” Wirt cleared his throat. “So uh, no more issues when you try to buy things now?” _With your massive amounts of money._

“I hope not. The last thing I want is to actually have to call them, but this should do it. When it’s done processing, I’ll get the email on my phone.” Dipper shut his laptop and set it on the floor, happily replacing the weight on his lap with a plate and sandwich. Humming around a bite, he shifted to stretch his legs out on the couch and rest his back against his boyfriend’s side.

“Oh, bank stuff and buying things reminds me, I’m low on red. Is there a craft store nearby?”

“Yeah. There’s one downtown, by the money- by the music shop.” Wirt tipped his head back against the couch and took a moment to glower at the ceiling before trying again. “I can ask Jonathan to grab some for you next time he’s over there. I think he’s teaching later this afternoon or tomorrow.”

“Good! I’ll write down the color code and the size yarn I need.”

“Think he can find out how much it is to rent a sousaphone for a couple weeks? Or if that’s, like, even an option? It’s been weird not being able to play.”

Wirt blinked, his mind taken away from the whole “my boyfriend is rich” thing. “Oh. Jonathan has one he’d totally let you borrow. I’m sorry, I didn’t even think to offer. Or ask him.” He moved a little so he could get an arm around Dipper’s middle while his boyfriend was stretched out along the couch. “He doesn’t use it much, so he wouldn’t mind.”

He tipped his head back onto Wirt’s shoulder and reached a hand up to tug off his cap so it wasn’t in the way of seeing his boyfriend’s face. It was an easy gesture, a normal one, but his fingers froze on the bill. Instead of removing it, he shifted it carefully to the side, his habits changed by a psychotic young teen and a sharp knife. “So, uh-”

He cleared his throat, lips curving. It took a moment, but excitement lit his eyes again. “Seriously? He’s got one? I brought my mouthpiece because, well you know, I couldn’t leave the whole thing behind. So that’d be really awesome.”

The difference was subtle enough that Wirt didn’t really pay it much mind. He knew the hat was important - even more now than ever - and Dipper had said he was fine the other day. He seemed fine. Recovering well and everything. He couldn’t blame him for wanting the hat to stay even more so than usual if that helped him.

Wirt smiled back, letting the clear delight at getting to play consume his thoughts instead. “Yeah. It’s in the office closet,” he told him, ducking down to rub their noses together. “We can have another duet later, if you want.”

“Can we make it a trio?” Greg asked. “I can play trumpet! Or drums! Or my ukulele ‘cause I’ve been getting really good at it. Are there any instruments you want to play, Mabel? We have almost every instrument!”

She giggled. “I put instruments away a long time ago, so you guys can play. Besides, every concert needs an audience!”

“Yeah!” Greg looked to Wirt and Dipper expectantly. “Can that be what we do after our sandwiches?”

“I’m in if, y’know, Jonathan says it’s cool if I use his stuff.”

“Okay, I’ll go ask him.” Wirt pressed his lips to Dipper’s brow and gave him a moment to sit up before sliding off the couch. “And I’ll check on the yarn thing,” he added for Mabel.

“Woo!” she cheered, just barely managing to avoid upturning her plate.

Dipper rolled his eyes at her, straightening his cap since his boyfriend was abandoning him. Until, of course, he realized he didn’t want to be alone with two hyperactive siblings with cartoons. Grabbing the second half of his sandwich, he hopped up. “I’ll go with you. It’s probably safer.”

Wirt laughed, waiting for him at the edge of the living room while Greg practically catapulted from the chair to the couch. “The couch is ours, Mabel! Hurry before they try to take it back!”

“Infinitely safer,” Wirt agreed, hooking his arm around Dipper’s waist when he was close enough. “Just stick with me, I’ll protect you from all manner of Gregs. Flying or otherwise.”

When Mabel whooshed by to pounce on the couch with her miniature partner in crime, Dipper laughed. “And all manner of Mabels, too, I’d hope.”

“Well, I can’t guarantee my methods of protection would be as effective against Mabels. I haven’t had as much experience fending them off, but I’d do my best.”

Wirt started to lead them down the hall, figuring they’d check the office and the master bedroom first. There was a chance that Jonathan would be in the backyard tending to his garden or in the garage, but he was willing to take his chances. Sure enough, they bumped into his step-dad on his way out of the office, a folder of sheet music tucked under his arm. He smiled and offered them both a wave.

“Afternoon, boys,” he greeted. “Greg’s sugar high crashing yet?”

“Not quite. He’s still going strong,” Wirt replied. “Hey, um, I had a quick question.”

Jonathan nodded, putting whatever he’d been planning on doing on hold for him. “Ask away, kiddo.”

“Can we borrow your sousaphone? Dipper plays it and we kinda wanted to practice together.”

“Right. You do play the sousaphone.” Jonathan snapped his fingers as he recalled Wirt’s question for Dipper from their tour of the Mystery Shack. “Sure. It’s just in the office. You can keep it in your room if you want though. I haven’t played it much lately, so it’s all yours for while you’re here, Dipper.”

He swallowed the last of his sandwich, and grinned. “Seriously?”

“Sure. Every instrument deserves a passionate player.” Jonathan nodded seriously, then flashed him a grin in return. “Just don’t try to stuff it with peanut butter or use it as a battle axe like Greg tends to do.”

“That’s how we lost a saxophone,” Wirt told him. “Greg decided he and Jason Funderburker had to fight in ‘The Crimson Raptor Wars’ or something and the saxophone was the best choice for a battle axe apparently. The peanut butter was an accident. Sort of.”

Jon laughed. “When he was three, he thought the sousaphone was hungry because it made the same sound as his stomach when he was hungry.”

“Well, to be fair that is kind of the sound it makes.” Dipper rocked back on his heels, thrilled. “I’ll keep it safe from anything peanut butter related, though. Thanks a lot.”

“No problem. Have fun with it.” Jonathan made to continue down the hall, then paused. “Oh, and I’m heading over to the music shop for two classes right now, but your mom will be back in half an hour or so.”

“Okay. That’s fine. Oh, and um... While you’re over there, can you maybe stop in that craft store next door? Mabel needs some more red yarn. She said she could write the exact color down for you,” Wirt piped up, shuffling his feet.

His step-dad smiled, a soft look meant to ease whatever tensions were rising in Wirt. “Sure thing, Wirt. Your mom’s been needing something from over there, too, so I’ll find out what she needs, too. Two birds, one stone.” He pointed down the hall. “I’ll go ask Mabel for the specifics, you boys grab the sousaphone.”

Wirt did relax a bit, and tucked Dipper a little closer to his side as he nodded. “Thanks, Jonathan. Have a good class.” With that said, he guided Dipper into the office. “Okay. I think it’s over here somewhere.”

“Okay. I hope you know your step-dad’s awesome. This is awesome.” Dipper kissed his cheek. “And thanks, man. I figured I could deal with a month of not having it around, but it’s weird not being able to practice. And this is a million times better than having to rent one or something ‘cause I didn’t budget for that.”

The five-digit number sitting in his boyfriend’s bank account flickered in his mind momentarily, but Wirt shook it off. He didn’t know what Dipper needed to use that money for. A lot of it was probably for college or something. Instead he offered him a smile and shrug as he slid open the closet.

“It’s no big deal. He’s right, he doesn’t use it that much. And even if we didn’t have one, he could probably bring you one home from the music store and not charge anything. I mean, Jonathan’s not the manager or anything, but he brings in a lot of business and being the elementary school’s music teacher gets him some perks and stuff, I guess,” Wirt explained as he moved a few cases around, grinning as he located the sousaphone tucked in the back. “Here we go. And I totally get it. You’re talking to the guy that brought his clarinet across the country and up through two states because he couldn’t bear to leave it behind.”

“True, but a clarinet’s a lot more portable than this thing.” He helped Wirt retrieve the bulky case from the closet and immediately set it on the floor and opened it. “Wow, this one’s a ton nicer than mine. But I guess this one hasn’t had to endure Gravity Falls, so...” He flicked his gaze up, all childish glee. “This is easily the third best thing that’s happened since we got here.”

“Yeah?” Wirt couldn’t help but match his enthusiasm, his heart skipping as he smiled brightly. “Well, I know that one of the things is our date. Probably. What’s the other one?”

“Oh. Well, y’know, every...” Dipper closed the case again, and rose. Though his face  had reddened considerably, his smile didn’t fade. “Just every single minute with you.”

Wirt’s smile only vanished because he gasped and clapped his hands over his mouth. “Oh my gosh. You’re terrible. You’re trying to kill me.” He was really very sure his heart stopped before it jumped back into overdrive. Slowly he lowered his hands to press them over his heart. “I get you a sousaphone and you try to kill me. Thank you.”

 _I love you. I love you so much._ It rolled through Dipper and tried very hard to roll right off his tongue. “I... It’s not like it’s not true.” A little annoyed with himself because it really should've been easier to say, he stepped over the sousaphone case and reached for his boyfriend. His cheeks were cupped, Dipper’s lips parting on another laugh before they met Wirt’s. Even annoyed with himself, he couldn’t get over knowing that this completely adorable guy was his.

Though he was trying to pout, Wirt had to smile against Dipper’s lips. His face warmed, the pleasant heat swirling through him as he wrapped his arms around his waist to tug him closer. Feeling bold, he nipped at his lower lip.

“Yeah, well… it’s the same for me. In case you couldn’t tell or… or it wasn’t obvious or anything,” he replied. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of being with you. I don’t think that’s possible.”

“We’ll see if you still say that after I’ve invaded your room with a sousaphone.” One hand stole into his hair, keeping him in place, and the other hooked around his neck to curl into the back of his sweater, a pleasant shiver working down his spine at the nip. “There’s no crazy mystery around here to distract me from it, not counting the giant frog. But that’s more Guide to the Unexplained territory than anything.”

“Uh-huh,” Wirt hummed, eager to kiss him again and give Dipper something else to distract him with, but the good big brother in him poked and prodded the lovesick part of him until he managed to find his words again. “About that… the giant frog thing, that is... The only supernatural, paranormal thing about it is the fact that it’s giant, right? It doesn’t have any weird powers or anything?”

“There are a couple of conflicting reports, but... mm.” Dipper kissed him again, more interested in that then a harmless frog. “It’s just people confusing it with the Dover Demon. Giant frog is somewhere between the size of a car and a house, and a few sources say it can talk, but that’s it.”

The Dover Demon. Right, he’d forgotten about that little myth in particular. Or not myth, maybe. Well, at least Dover was a decent drive from Lakeville. As long as the giant frog didn’t seem like anything other than a giant frog they’d be good. Right? It was hard to keep his thoughts on track when Dipper’s mouth was much more interesting.

“Okay,” Wirt breathed, fingers playing along Dipper’s spine as he initiated the next two kisses, both lazy and long, relishing that it was just the two of them. “Good. As long as… as long as it doesn’t turn people into lily pads or… or eats them. We should be good. You’re good. You’re a good kisser.”

“Mm. Don’t worry. I’ll keep you-” He cut himself off, sinking into another kiss that drew out some of Wirt’s helpless little noises. “I’ll keep, um... Kissing you, yeah. Really like that.”

“Mmhm.” His lips parted on a soft, pleased sound, inviting him in.

Knees threatening to give out, Wirt stepped back, taking Dipper with him, until his back bumped into the wall. It wasn’t as comfortable as a bed or couch, but it was support and it was the closest thing they had other than the floor or the computer chair and both involved a good deal of readjusting that Wirt didn’t really want to focus on when he had other things to occupy his mind, like the way Dipper’s tongue flicked his or the way he pressed closer when Wirt stroked his sides or gripped his waist.

Dipper lifted to his toes, getting as close as physically possible, pinning him to the wall. The hand that had been gripping his sweater pet his side instead. Kisses were peppered along the column of his throat, teeth lightly nipping, when they finally needed air. “Mine,” he hummed between kisses. “Mine, mine, mine.”

“Oh my god,” Wirt gasped, his chest tight with the sudden rush of affection and disbelief, mind clearing at the mantra. He was wanted. His hand went to tangle in Dipper’s hair, bumping into the cap instead. Rather than push it off, he pressed it down onto his head, securely, protectively. Dipper wanted him. He’d said it earlier - _mine_ \- and said it before then as well, but each whisper of the word against his skin made his heart stutter and his breath hitch.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes while the color in his cheeks deepened. “Yours,” he affirmed, then he was rolling them so it was Dipper against the wall and Wirt claiming his lips with fierce determination. “And you’re mine. You’re mine.” Each kiss a little more desperate than the last as he clutched at Dipper’s shirt. “Please be mine.”

As helpless to the plea as he was to the demands of his own heart, Dipper whimpered a little. Clinging to Wirt, he surrendered and let him take whatever he needed. “Yours. I’ll be yours.”

He nodded quickly, then lapped at his lips, a small sound caught in his throat. The frantic edge eased a bit, Wirt’s kiss slowing into something softer until he could comfortably break it to hide his face against Dipper’s neck. His arms wrapped around him, snaking between his back and the wall, and he held on while his heart calmed and his center of gravity and sense of self returned to something a bit more stable.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, his words a light vibration on his skin as he nuzzled him. “I don’t know what… I’m sorry.”

“It’s... it’s okay. I meant it. I’m-” He threaded his fingers through Wirt’s hair, stroking to soothe whatever had riled that burst of possession. “I’m yours, Wirt. I want to be.” Heart, mind, and soul, he wanted to belong to this poet.

Wirt’s shoulders sagged on a slow exhale and he squeezed him a little tighter. Eyes closing, he breathed him in. This precious soul that brought so much light and warmth to share - with him, with the world - was willing to belong to him. As much as any person could belong to another. Dipper looked at him and saw someone worthy of having and belonging to. It still shook him to the core to realize that.

Placing a small kiss to the curve of his jaw, Wirt lifted his head to look at him. Gaze still damp, he smiled for him as he brought one hand up to cup his cheek. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Dipper, but I’m really glad I did whatever it was. Still haven’t had enough of being with you. And no sousaphone’s going to change that.”

Dipper tilted his head into the touch, lifting a hand to keep his there. He’d kept a promise, to start, and trust was a hard commodity for him. “You’re just you, that’s all.” He turned his head briefly to press a kiss to his palm. “That’s all you need to do and be for me.”

Wirt swallowed past the lump in his throat, barely daring to breathe. “That’s enough?”

He lowered their hands, lacing their fingers, and tipped forward to kiss him again. This one soft and soothing. No demands, no pressure. _I love you_. “Yes. You’re enough.”

 _I love you, too._ “So are you,” Wirt murmured, resting their foreheads together.

Disbelief flickered briefly in his eyes before he closed them. He could be better. He could always be better than what he was. He’d failed at so many things. He shoved it away, the throb in his brow a phantom pain, easily erased by gently rubbing it against Wirt’s. When they opened again, his eyes were as content and happy as the smile curving his lips. “We’re both total saps. I think we deserve each other. I mean, who else would put up with us?”

“At least we come by it honestly.” Wirt shrugged and the hand not holding Dipper’s lifted to adjust his hat for him, gaze flicking from his eyes to his mouth.

He had to taste the smile before this moment ended, so he kissed him twice, gentle and happy in return. So happy. Even with his well of insecurities fathomless and overflowing at the worst of times, he couldn’t help but be just as happy and content with the boy in front of him. He rubbed their noses together before taking a step back, allowing Dipper the freedom to move away from the wall if he wanted to.

Wirt’s smile turned sheepish as he left their hands connected. “I wouldn’t really want anyone else to be able to put up with me and my sap anyway.”

“Me either.” He gave Wirt’s hands a squeeze, in no real hurry to go anywhere just yet, but they couldn’t really just hang around the office forever. Even though it had been the first place all day that he and Wirt had actually been able to make out without interruptions. Hm.

“Wanna get out of here and actually play? I think I might start having music withdrawals.”

“Yeah, sure,” he agreed, glancing down to make sure he didn’t trip on the sousaphone case as he left their little corner of the office. “We could set up in my room or play in the living room since there’s more space there. I don’t know, whatever you want. I’ll just need to grab my clarinet.”

“I need my mouthpiece, and I don’t know if I want to risk fighting our sibs for control of the couch. It could be a bloody battle.” Dipper hefted the case with the ease of familiarity, grinning. “Probably fun, though.”

Wirt couldn’t help smiling or the flutter at seeing him so comfortable with the instrument. “I’m game if you are.”

He laughed. “Let's go fight for a couch.”

 

\----

 

There were no survivors. Not even his borrowed sousaphone had gone unscathed, and Dipper was still mortified that a Greg-sized peanut butter handprint had needed to get scrubbed from the bell not even an hour after he’d promised to keep it safe from peanut butter. He didn’t hold it against him, though, as Greg hadn’t known and he’d just been excited to see it.

Their duet had been one of victory, though, he and Wirt claiming the couch. Having Greg join in on his little ukulele had been amusing, of course, and when Mabel had been given a triangle in consolation for the loss, their playful duet had turned into a cacophony of noise that had carried on much longer than it probably should have.

Much longer than would have been allowed at their home in Piedmont, Dipper reflected, opening his laptop to begin his research since Mabel was off convincing Amy to hold still for sweater measurements and Wirt was taking his shower for the night. Besides a few mental missteps because his brain was trying to remind him of memories he’d rather not have, the day had been a good one.

He looked up, noting movement out of the corner of his eye and hearing whispers from the hall. It was Greg passing by, the ever-faithful frog in his arms. “Hey, Greg. Thought you were hanging out with Mabel.”

“She and Mom are still talking about sweaters,” he explained, then perked up. “Can me and Jason Funderburker sit with you?”

“Yeah, come on. I’m just researching the giant frog anyway.” He patted the space beside him on Wirt’s bed. “If we’re going on a frog hunt, we’ve got to have some idea of what clues we’ll need to be on the lookout for.”

“Oh yeah! Giant frog hunt!” Greg grinned and raced inside. He was careful with Jason Funderburker, making sure the frog was comfortable on the end of the bed before climbing on himself. Settling in the spot next to Dipper, he laid his head on his shoulder so he could look at the screen, too. “What kind of clues will we need to look for? Have you found any so far?”

“Hm. Not anything fresh. I just opened this thing. I was going to review some older research, write down some ideas.” He tapped the journal beside him, and tipped the screen a bit to give Greg a better vantage point as he opened his folders.

“Let’s see... Mysterious creatures, earth, North America, United States, Massachusetts.” There were at least a dozen folders in the Massachusetts one, and he had to skim a minute before finding and double-clicking the one labelled “Giant Frog.”

Greg sat up a bit, attentive as he tilted his head to glance between Dipper and the screen. “What were all those other things?” he asked. “Other giant animals that live near us?”

“Not really. I mean, a couple of them are kind of on the giant side. Like Thunderbird and the lake monsters, but the creatures in this state are as varied as they are in any other.”

“Wait.” The seven-year-old arched an eyebrow, his dubious expression reminiscent of his brother as he crossed his arms. “Are you saying there’s monsters here? Like in Gravity Falls? That’s not true, Wirt said we don’t have any of that stuff here.”

Dipper snorted. “Of course there are. Paranormal things exist ev-” Wait. His brain clicked, fingers faltering on his laptop as he dropped his gaze to the boy. To the seven year old. Uh-oh. “Uh.”

Greg’s eyes rounded, the furrow in his brow smoothing out as he stared back at him. Inched away from him. He shook his head. “No. Wirt said they’re not here. He’s the captain, so what he says goes.”

But he didn’t sound so sure when he spoke. Wirt had been wrong before, had admitted that he didn’t know monsters and the things they found in The Unknown were real, and Dipper was a paranormal expert and he had folders and journals and files. If anyone would know for sure, it would be him. Greg bit down on his lower lip. “Did he lie?”

“No! No way. He wouldn’t lie to you. It’s-” Dipper set his laptop aside, taking his hands. Oh, man. What was he supposed to do with this? He couldn’t lie to Greg either. “Not knowing and lying are two different things. He didn’t lie to you, Greg. He just... didn’t know.”

“But he promised.” Greg glanced at their hands, then met Dipper’s gaze head-on. “He promised nothing could get us here.”

He could’ve kicked himself. Of course Wirt would tell him that. He wouldn’t have known better. He was normal. He and Greg were both normal kids in a normal town. They weren’t into the paranormal. They weren’t... They weren't freaks like him. “Nothing will. Most people go their whole lives without seeing anything paranormal. Think about it. Wirt hasn’t seen anything weird in Lakeville his whole life, and neither have you.”

“But it’s still out there!” Greg pulled his hands away and went to retrieve Jason Funderburker, as if the idea of danger could snatch their lucky frog away. “If it’s here, it could find us! It’ll try and turn us into trees again, it’ll take Wirt away!”

“No. Hey, no, hey. Come here.” Dipper didn’t give him a choice, bundling him in his lap, frog and all, and holding fast. “Nothing’s here that will turn you or Wirt into trees. The Beast isn’t here. It’s a rock fact, one of the one hundred percent true ones.”

“I know. We beat The Beast. We beat him.” Greg curled into him, petting Jason Funderburker as if he was the one who needed reassurance. “But what if something else can do that, too? What if other things can hurt us or do worse things? I don’t know what’s worse than turning into trees, but I bet it’s awful. And you’re not here all the time. You and Mabel aren’t here all the time, what if something happens?”

“Were we there when Wirt figured out how to save Lorna from the evil spirit inside of her? No. Were we there when you and Wirt beat The Beast? No.” Dipper cupped his chin, tilting Greg’s head up. He wrapped himself around the boy as much as he could, shielding him, protecting him. “You and Wirt did that. You and he did all kinds of things without me and Mabel around.

“And, yeah, this isn’t The Unknown. This is home, and that makes it a little different. But you guys are still a great team, and there’s nothing you can’t do if you set your mind to it. Besides, I’m not leaving without leaving you guys with protection. And you know Mabel and I will always come if you need us. We love you, Greg.”

Greg released Jason Funderburker to cling to him. “I love you, too. And Wirt. I just don’t want anything to hurt any of us.” He made sure to maintain eye contact. “What kinds of things are out there? What kinds of things live near us?”

“In Lakeville, there’s nothing.” He made sure to assure him of that first. “The giant frog’s around here somewhere, but it moves around like crazy. But the state as a whole has a few different things. Sea serpents, the Dover Demon, Thunderbird, pixies, fairies, and witches. Ghosts.”

He offered a smile, stroking Greg’s hair. “There’s a reason why that first folder is called ‘mysterious creatures’ and not ‘monsters.’ You know that, right? Not everything that’s different is scary. Most things aren’t, and the things that are? There are ways to protect against them.”

“Yeah?” Greg’s hold on him eased. “I like ghosts and witches and fairies. Can you tell me more about the other things that are around us? And the giant frog.” Concern knitted his brow. “The giant frog won’t hurt us, right?”

“Absolutely not. I wouldn’t take you near something that would hurt you. It’s just a really big frog that may or may not talk. As for the rest of it, let me do some more research. I don’t know about everything that’s here, but I’ll find out for you. Okay?”

“Okay.” Greg nodded, then offered up a salute. “I’ll do research, too. I’ll find out about the creatures, too, so I can do my part to keep us safe.”

“We both will.”

Greg’s attention shifted to the door, Wirt hovering at the frame in his pajamas with a towel in hand. From the look on his face, the younger brother easily deduced that he’d heard enough of their conversation from the hallway. Something like guilt warred with the urge to protect.

Twisting the towel between his hands, Wirt cleared his throat and looked at Greg seriously. “We’ll both find out whatever we can about what’s near us.”

Beside him, Mabel waved. “I’m bad at research-”

“You’re the worst at it.”

She stuck her tongue out at her twin. “But I’ll help too. Mystery Best Friends all the way.”

Dipper shook his head, ruffling Greg’s hair. “Don’t worry, okay? You’re safe, and so’s Wirt. You’ll stay that way.”

“Thanks, Dipper.” Greg hugged him again, easier with the relief that they would be safe. Dipper and Mabel, and he and Wirt, would make sure of that. “We’ll uncover all the mysteries we can.”

“You know it.” He laughed, giving the boy a squeeze. “You okay, though? Feeling better about stuff?”

Greg started to nod, hesitated, then nodded firmly. “I think so. And I still want to go on the frog hunt,” he added as Wirt entered the room more fully, settling on the edge of the bed beside Dipper.

“We have to go on the frog hunt!” Mabel skipped in, rubbing Greg’s back and studying her brother and his very careful avoidance of Wirt’s gaze. “I think we should turn it into one of Dipper’s videos. That’ll be fun, huh, Greg?”

“Yeah! Could we?” He easily glanced between Dipper and his big brother.

Wirt offered him a small half-smile and a shrug, his shoulder brushing his boyfriend’s. “If Dipper wants to. It’s his channel.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s-” Dipper had to clear his throat. “I brought one of my cameras, so we absolutely can. Yeah.”

“Good!” Mabel swept Greg and Jason Funderburker up, hugging them both. “Come on, baby. I need a good helper so I can start your mom’s sweater.”

As Greg nuzzled Mabel, eager to go with her, Wirt made sure to call after them, “Don’t forget to take your bath before bed, too.”

“If I do, it was completely intentional,” Greg replied.

While the two of them and Jason Funderburker spun out of the room, the older brother shook his head and released a long sigh of exasperation as he let his head rest against Dipper’s. “I think we might have another war ahead of us.”

Dipper didn’t hear him. His calm had ended when the door closed, hands gesturing uselessly in front of him as his ears started to ring. “Oh my god. Oh my god, I’m sorry. I scared him. I’m such a freak. Oh my god. He’s _seven_ , and I forgot he was seven and I opened my big, stupid mouth. Oh my _god_!”

“Hey, no, it’s okay.” Wirt wrapped his arms around his middle, turning so he could rest his chin on Dipper’s shoulder. “You handled that so much better than I did, trust me. You were great with him. Greg’s… I forget he’s seven sometimes, too. And it’s hard to tell what will rattle him sometimes. You didn’t know. He was so excited about mysteries in Gravity Falls and he’s always talking about ghosts, so you couldn’t have known he’d get scared. Though according to Greg he never gets scared, but you and I know that’s not true.”

He was tense and quivering, but it wasn’t enough to keep him from clinging to Wirt. “I don’t- I just- Do you know how hard it is to be the kid who believes in paranormal activity? Oh my god. He’s already getting bullied, and I’m just going to get him in even deeper. I’ll make his life worse. I don’t- I care about you guys too much to makes your lives worse. What is _wrong_ with me? I can’t even be normal in a normal freaking town! What am I _doing_?”

Cupping his cheeks, Wirt tilted Dipper’s face and kissed him to put a stop to the rambling. It was firm, but not demanding, just enough to capture his attention and hold it. As Wirt let it soften, his thumbs caressed the curve of his cheekbones, continuing to even as he broke the contact between his lips to seek out his gaze.

“That kid you picked up today? Last winter he and his friends held Greg down and shoved tree branches into his jacket because he was afraid of turning into a tree.” Wirt swallowed, mouth tightening at the memory, but he kept going. “Before that he told him to jump in a lake and not come back up. Before that he took his lunch for a week. Because he’s a terrible, rotten kid that thrives off making happy kids miserable. And he’s going to keep targeting Greg as long as he’s happy, and Greg knows that.

“But that’s not going to stop him. Maybe someday it might, and I hope it doesn’t, but for now Greg refuses to let what Andy McAllen does or says stop him from being happy. And having you in his life helps that. He doesn’t... he doesn’t really have friends. Not ones who listen like you and Mabel do. Not ones who care about him the way you do.” Though his chin quivered, Wirt managed to keep his voice from breaking. “Greg’s never been normal, but that’s not a bad thing. And having you and Mabel around to show him that it’s okay to be himself and that- and that he _matters_ … Dipper, there’s no way you could ever make his life worse. You’re making it better. Trust me.”

“I should’ve smacked that snot-nosed brat when I had the chance.” Dipper twisted his hat to the side, then wrapped trembling fingers around Wirt’s wrists. He let the words roll through his mind, shoulders slowly sagging as the tension drained from him. “I... I know what it’s like to get targeted like that. To get held down by some jerks and...” He shook his head. “I just get it. I get what he’s going through, and I can’t stand it. He _does_ matter. He’s creative and great, and he has you too.”

He gave Wirt’s wrists a squeeze. “You listen to him, and you care about him too. I know that’s still kind of new for you, but seeing you change your mind and your attitude towards him matters too. It mattered to me when Mabel changed, so I know it’s matters to Greg.”

Lips quirking up, Wirt leaned in to rest their foreheads together. “Thank you. That does mean a lot to hear, but don’t change the subject. We’re talking about how you’re important right now. Because you are so important. To Greg, and to me. Okay? You matter, too. There’s nothing wrong with you and meeting you was one of the best things that could’ve happened to us, near-death experience aside. So please don’t ever think you’re making our lives worse. You’re not. Not in the slightest.”

“No, I’m- I mean-” Dipper recoiled even as his grip on Wirt tightened, his gaze falling away. “That’s just- I’m just a- some loser with a journal.” His shoulders jerked in panicky dismissal. “Anybody can do what I do.”

Wirt stroked his cheeks one more time, then released his face to wrap his arms around him, tugging him into his lap. “Your journal didn’t tell you to offer to stay with me and Greg in The Unknown. That was you being selfless and brave. Your journal also doesn’t have the rules to one old cat in it, but you picked up on Greg’s point system and supported the whole thing because you’re clever and patient when it matters. Those things don’t come easy to everyone.”

His hold on him tightened and Wirt dropped his head to brush a kiss just under his ear. “It also isn’t your journal that makes me so happy whenever you’re around, whether you’re next to me or across the room. That’s just you. And not just anyone can do that. Not just anyone can make my heart tremble for wanting you. Just you. I don’t want anybody, I want you, Dipper.”

He didn’t know how to respond, his own heart pounding almost painfully. It wasn’t the actions Wirt was praising, but the emotions and person behind them. No one did that. Oh, people praised him, thanked him. But it was always the actions. It was never why. No one cared why.

Dipper curled a hand into Wirt’s nightshirt just over his heart. If he didn’t already love him, he would’ve fallen here. As it was, his eyes were wide and his breath hitching. “I... I just... You have me. For whatever that’s worth, you have me.”

“It’s worth more than you can imagine, believe me.” He smiled as he trailed his lips from his ear to his temple. “‘You are summer, you are life,’” he murmured, leaning back only enough to meet his wide-eyed stare. “And you have me, too. Nobody else can say that.”

Dipper never wanted anyone else to be able to say that. It was greedy and selfish and probably crazy, but the thought was driven by a rush of awed love. Wanted and appreciated for who he was, weird paranormal fascination and all. He leaned forward, pressing their lips together  with a needy little sound. He never wanted to belong to anyone else, either.

Wirt closed his eyes and returned it, fierce in proving how much he mattered to him. How much he was worth. Leaving one arm snug around his waist, Wirt cupped the nape of Dipper’s neck with his other hand as he deepened the kiss, the sound resonating deep within him and he responded with a similar need. It stunned him that Dipper could feel so little about himself, understanding insecurity far too well himself, and while he knew his words and actions couldn’t eradicate years of internal - or external - belittling, he was going to do his part to remind him of the good things. To shed some light on his value. Illuminate his importance. Dipper Pines was a spark of brightness in his life that he never wanted to see dimmed.

Dipper’s smile was back, lips curving easily when the kiss ended. He dropped his chin to his shoulder with a contented sigh. “You really ready to research all the things Mass has to offer? I mean, you have you own Bermuda Triangle.”

He huffed out a soft laugh, rubbing his boyfriend’s neck to continue to soothe. “Yeah. Better to be informed about this stuff, right? So we don’t go in blind. Besides, it’ll be better for Greg in the long-run. If he knows exactly what’s out there, maybe he won’t have to be so afraid of the idea of it.”

“Don’t worry, pilgrim. He’s got nothing to fear. You guys are going to get the best protection I can get my hands on.” Dipper turned a little to press a kiss to his neck. “Trust me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Psst... Dipper's a millionaire. Pass it on.
> 
> Not really, but seriously, that kid will never have to worry about student loans, the lucky duck. Or, well, he will, but at least he's off to a good start.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! So starting next week we're going to change our update schedule. We're going back to Mondays and Fridays and getting rid of the Wednesday update for now because we're not done writing part three yet. We hit a hitch in one of the chapters and it set us back a few days, so to keep us from catching up too quickly we're going to go back to two updates a week for now. Thanks for understanding, guys! We really appreciate it and all your feedback and we hope to finish Lakeville, City of Lakes soon! For now, please enjoy chapter nine! It's party time!

“I’m so excited!” Mabel cheered, torn between twirling with Greg on her shoulders or in her arms. She solved the problem by making two quick spins, one for each, and giggled as she rubbed their cheeks together. “Are you guys excited?”

“I’m not so sure excited is the right word to describe the knot in my stomach,” Wirt replied dryly, feeling his gut twist as he spoke.

It was still light out as the four of them walked along the sidewalk, but the sun was steadily sinking past the horizon. Wirt kicked at a pebble and watched it skitter and bounce into a crevice in the pavement. While part of him dreaded the fact that Sara’s house wasn’t so far from his own, since it meant that they’d be there sooner rather than later, another part was just as relieved. When it would be time for his inevitable escape, he wouldn’t have so far to go.

Though it wasn’t like he’d actually ditch his little brother and the twins. At least he knew Sara’s house relatively well enough to be able to hide somewhere. Preferably somewhere that could fit two.

As they approached Sara’s block, Wirt could hear the bass of a song pounding in the air, bumping about in his head. Or maybe that was just his heartbeat. He actually wasn’t all that sure. His hand found Dipper’s and he fumbled to lace their fingers together. Depending on how many people Jason Funderberker told about this party, he didn’t want to risk losing him in whatever crowd that might sweep in like a tidal wave and drag them away in its current, promising no return.

Okay, he really needed to get himself in check, it wasn’t going to be that bad. These were his friends, for the most part. He just needed to relax and things would go great. Yes. “That’s her house there,” he pointed out, the two-story inconspicuous enough save for the sign on the porch promoting the party inside.

Dipper gave his hand a squeeze, bumped their shoulders together. “Couldn’t tell that from the music,” he teased.

Mabel giggled, setting Greg on his feet to take his hand instead. “This is such a cute neighborhood. I love these older houses. I love that we’re going to a party in one. It’s been so long since we’ve had a good party!”

“It’s literally been, like, three weeks.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“No, it absolutely counts.”

“Shush! Let me enjoy my party spirit, you pain!”

Their back and forth managed to tip a smile from Wirt’s lips. “There may not be a party crown, but there’ll definitely be dancing and Sara has one of those old karaoke machines that I’m sure she brought out. Oh, and a pool table in the basement. Her house actually has a basement, which is kinda cool.”

“It’s really cool! It’s got a fun room and then it has two smaller spooky rooms!” Greg added. “Well, one’s the laundry room, but it’s still pretty spooky.”

“Karaoke?! Let’s do it, Greg! Party crown or no party crown, we’re going to be the life of this party!”

“Yeah!”

Wirt puffed up his cheeks and blew out a long breath before stepping up the porch and knocking on the door. It was too quiet, too hesitant, so Greg hopped up next to him and took over, beating his fist along to the music against the door until Sara opened it with a laugh.

“Hey guys! Glad you could make it,” she greeted, letting them by.

“Yeah, of course,” Wirt replied, rubbing his neck with his free hand as his gaze skimmed the entrance to her house. He recognized Isabelle and Taylor straight off, the girls probably having come over early to help her set up, plus some people from his English class and the wrestling team.

“Not everyone’s here yet,” she added as she watched Wirt take in the ten or so people, “so there are still plenty of snacks and age-appropriate drinks and stuff. Help yourselves. We’re probably gonna head downstairs once more people show.”

“Right, yeah. Cool.”

Dipper lifted their joined hands, pressing a kiss to the back of Wirt’s as he, too, scanned the faces. He could do this, no problem. They both could. “Thanks for the invite.”

“Yeah,” Mabel agreed, bouncing in place. “Don’t let Dipper near the pool table, by the way. He’ll never leave.”

“Yes, I will. Shut up.”

Sara grinned. “Might have to challenge you to a couple of rounds then.”

“Oh boy,” Wirt and Isabelle sighed collectively as the other girl joined them.

“Sara hasn't lost a game yet,” she added. “And she insists on taking down pretty much anyone she meets.”

“No I don't,” Sara laughed, shoving Isabelle lightly. “I'm not that bad.”

“She is,” Wirt whispered as he leaned into Dipper, then looked him over curiously. “You play pool?”

“We both do,” he confirmed, gesturing at his sister.

“Grunkle Stan taught us. But Dipper’s more serious about it.”

“Not really.” He shrugged, but the grin he aimed at Sara was a little mischievous. “If you’ve never lost, though, I’m down for that challenge.”

“Awesome. Alright, meet up at the pool table in an hour or so?” she suggested, returning his grin with a smirk of her own, gaze briefly flicking to Wirt. “Maybe two so you guys can just chill and stuff.”

Wirt narrowed his eyes. “Is this doubling as some kind of ploy to get me to stay longer?”

“Maybe. Yes.” She shrugged, then looked past them out the open door as more people came up behind them - more people including Jason Funderberker. “Make yourselves at home, guys. Wirt, you pretty much know where everything is. I'll catch up with you in a bit.”

“Yeah, okay.” Wirt rolled his eyes, but side-stepped out of the way, taking Dipper with him.

“We’ll give her an hour, maybe less depending on how you feel.” Dipper kissed his cheek, giving his sister an absent thumbs-up when she gestured towards the snack table. “You wanna grab a drink and hide in the basement before anyone else heads down there?”

Wirt flashed him a grateful smile. “Yeah. I mean, that's where all the dancing and stuff will end up anyway.”

“Let's grab as many snacks as we can!” Greg seconded, then bolted for the table.

Mabel giggled. “Absolutely. We have to scope out the best place and claim it.” It would be the only way to keep the introverts in line. “Come on, boys.”

Loaded with what should’ve been an embarrassing amount of food but for the twins being thoroughly unapologetic and bickering their way through the selection process, the quartet quickly found their way to a table in the corner of the basement. Dipper’s attention was very quickly caught by the pool table, their table purposefully close to it, so Mabel shoved him. “Go play, you dork.”

Dipper glanced at Wirt. “No, I’m good. It can wait.”

She laughed at him, grabbing his wrist to drag him. “You and I both know you want to do your math thing and make sure the table has all the right angles and blahblahblah.”

Wirt offered him a small smile and waved him away. “Go on. Greg and I will save our spots.”

“Speak for yourself, brother o' mine.” Greg placed one hand on his hip, pointing across the room. “I'm going to have a secret meeting in the spooky laundry room.”

“By yourself?” Wirt quirked up an eyebrow.

“No,” he replied simply, then left the table after grabbing a handful of pretzels.

Sighing, he called after him, “Just don't mess with their dryer like you did last time.”

Mabel watched him like a hawk just to see which door he went into, her brother setting up a game now that permission had been granted by his boyfriend. A nickel was retrieved from her pocket. “Heads or tails?”

“Tails.” She flipped it, and he caught it. Heads. “Crap.”

She giggled. “Okay, hm. We’ll play standard 8-ball, but switch out after each turn. And you scratch, you lose. You can break, but I call stripes.”

“You’re always stripes,” he muttered, eyes narrowed as his focus shifted. Angles. The game was all angles and control. He set up the cue ball where he wanted it and bent low over the table to line up the first shot, calculations spinning through his mind. His hips shifted, feet pivoting just so, and three solids spun into pockets with the break.

Wirt’s mouth fell open on a quiet breath of awe. Sure, he’d seen a fair amount of pool since having started hanging out with Sara on a regular basis, but he’d never thought it was something that could get his heart racing and his stomach flooded with butterflies. But when Dipper played, that look of concentration and familiar ease with which he took the shot, well, it made his face burn when he realized he was blatantly staring at him. He quickly shifted his gaze, only to blush harder when it was his hips he’d decided to settle on.

A low whistle caught his attention. Trevor hopped the last steps to the basement and swung around the railing as he eyed the pool table, eyebrows high on his forehead. He felt Wirt’s eyes on him and glanced over, grinning broadly when he realized just how flustered he was. “Aw, don’t be embarrassed, Wirt! Your boyfriend’s hot, man, enjoy it!”

“What! I- but, it’s not-! _Trevor_!” Wirt sputtered and squeaked, then glared when his friend cackled at his reaction.

Dipper glanced back, his own blush rising as he caught Wirt’s gaze. He smiled, tugging at the bill of his cap as an odd mixture of pleasure and embarrassment worked through him. He did, after all, want Wirt to find him attractive.

Mabel laughed aloud, sinking two stripes with her shot. “You’re absolutely right, Trevor. You’re up, Dipdop! Think you can concentrate knowing your cute little boyfriend’s keeping an eye on you?”

He bit his lip, tearing his gaze away to study the new angles presented on the table. “Maybe. Shut up, Mabel.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not- I’m not even here.” Wirt sank down in the chair, shielding his very red face with his hand. Though not enough to keep him from being able to peek around it to watch Dipper. He was his boyfriend after all, he was allowed. He did shoot Mabel somewhat of a frown. “And I’m not cute and little, Mabel.”

“Are you kidding? You’re totally cute, look at you.” Trevor sat down next to him, apparently deciding that whatever they were doing was more interesting than what he’d come down for in the first place, satisfied when Wirt slumped down even more. “Pretending not to ogle your boyfriend like it’s some sort of scandal.”

“Oh my god, stop embarrassing him. I can’t even concentrate,” Dipper complained.

Mabel punched his shoulder twice, delighted by this turn of events and a little sad that her partner in crime wasn’t able to see this ob-waffle display. “You’re just happy your totally-cute-don’t-even-deny-it boyfriend likes the way you look.”

“Shut up. Shut up, oh my god. I’m ignoring all of you.” He went to the side of the table, forcing his mind to physics, and dragged his teeth along his lower lip as he sought the best option. He hit the cue at an angle and it ricocheted around the table, bouncing another three solids into pockets.

Wirt sucked in a sharp breath, cringing when it was loud enough to coax a laugh out of Trevor. He needed to stop reacting like that, for the sake of Dipper’s concentration if anything. “Sorry, Dipper,” he managed, grabbing his drink to give himself something else to look at.

“Hey, maybe you can get him to show you some tips after,” Trevor told him.

“Oh my gosh.”

“You know? Like they do in movies and stuff? Pressed up all close and hips touching and-”

“Oh my gosh, _Trevor_ ,” Wirt snapped, sitting straight up to fix him with the sternest look his flushed face could manage. “I swear I’m going to find Isabelle and make sure that she takes you shopping for the next two years every time she has to buy something if you don’t stop talking about how I think my boyfriend’s hot. Yes, I think he’s hot. Obviously. That’s part of why he’s my boyfriend. So I’m going to watch or not watch him play pool as much as I please and I’m going to enjoy it.”

Trevor stared at him with a shocked sort of smile. “Okay, okay. Wow, Wirt, don’t hold back.”

“No one said you can’t watch him, Wirt. He’s _your_ boyfriend, silly!” Mabel punched her twin’s shoulder again, trying to hold back her giggles but failing miserably. “Right?”

It was a very good thing Dipper had already taken his shot or he would’ve likely driven his cue stick into Sara’s pool table rather than into the cue ball. Oh. Oh, oh. _Oh_. There had been a few babbled instances where “gorgeous” had been tossed in, but those were easy enough to ignore, not the main focus of his babbles and too quick to really be taken seriously. But this little defiant rant wasn’t as easy to ignore.

Wirt thought he was hot. His, yes, very cute and appealing and completely beautiful boyfriend thought he was hot. He tugged his hat down, his breathless laugh a little embarrassed and a lot pleased. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m his. Now come on, Mabel. It’s your shot.”

Flicking his gaze over to Dipper, Wirt raked his hand through his hair, his mortification catching up with his frustration until he realized just how pleased he sounded. And how adorable he looked hiding behind the bill of his cap. His lips quirked up, his half-smile full of fondness as he let himself watch him. He didn’t even notice when more people filtered downstairs, Isabelle having joined them to take over Trevor’s task which had apparently been to switch the playlist on the speakers in the basement and turn up the music. Greg reappeared, too, at some point during the twins’ game

“Who’s winning?” he asked his brother as he climbed onto his lap.

“I don’t know,” Wirt replied, eyes focused on something far more interesting than stripes or solids.

Greg crossed his arms and huffed. “Ain’t that just the way?” he murmured, unimpressed with Wirt’s observation skills.

Dipper sank the eight ball as Greg huffed, pumping his fist in triumph. “Yes!”

“Two out of three.”

“Yeah, man. Cutthroat, but same extra rules as last time. I got nine through fifteen. You break.” Together, they gathered the balls and racked them.

“Numerical and cutthroat or just cutthroat?”

He ran his tongue along his lower lip, considering. “Numerical if we need a tiebreaker.”

“If? Pssh.” Mabel placed the cue ball where she wanted it and sank two and three. She had noticed the people making their way down and basked in the energy they brought. “I’m taking this round, bro-bro.”

“I call a round with the winner!” Trevor piped up, then leaned into Wirt since the music was louder now. “Totally gonna lose hardcore, but it’ll be worth it. They’re awesome.”

More at ease from basking in his boyfriend’s triumph, Wirt smiled back and bumped his friend’s shoulder. “Yeah they are.”

“Wirt!” Both teens and Greg turned to see Sara waving at them from over by the stairs. “Hey, can you come here a minute?”

“Sure-” he started to answer, but there was no way he’d be loud enough to reach her, so he just nodded while Greg scrambled off him. “Hold down the fort, soldier. I’ll be right back.”

“Aye aye, Captain Wirt!”

Wirt glanced over at the pool table, the next round in full swing. “And if Dipper or Mabel ask where I went, I’m with Sara, okay? Not on the moon or whatever.”

Greg laughed. “Okay. I’ll let them know if they notice.”

Satisfied, Wirt ruffled his hair and gave Trevor a wave before slipping through the throng of people between their corner of the room and the stairs. Not that many people. Right. He counted at least fifteen in the basement alone and he knew there were still people upstairs. People like Jason Funderberker, that guy. Wirt shook his head, muttering apologies as he stuck as close to the wall as possible, to be out of anyone’s way. When he reached Sara, she chuckled and grabbed his wrist, tugging him after her up the stairs.

“So what’s up?” he asked once they were weaving through her living room, the collection of people in there steadily making their way from the snack table to the basement.

“Just wanted to show you something real quick.” She opened the back door and lead him onto the back porch. “I know more people showed up than I said, and I’m sorry about that. You know how people are when they hear about parties though, they just show up.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” he acknowledged with a shrug. “It’s fine, Sara. I kinda figured it would be… busy.”

She nodded, taking him around to the side of the house. “Still, you’re like one of my closest friends and I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable or like you have to leave early, so I set up a little sitting space out here. I’m not telling anyone else about this, I mean, unless you want me to. It’s just somewhere you can go if you need a break. By yourself or with Dipper or whatever. This space is yours for tonight. Is that cool?”

The collection of five foldable chairs set up in a circle around a small table with a lantern on top for light wasn’t much, but it was enough for Wirt. It was enough that his friend took the time to do this just because she wanted him at her party, even if most of it was spent out here. Or part of it. Or none of it. It was just there if he or Dipper or Greg or Mabel needed it. For fresh air or peace and quiet or no reason at all.

“Thanks, Sara, I… you didn’t have to. This is definitely cool, it’s great, but if you really wanted me to stay, I would’ve-”

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t have been happy about it.” She rolled her eyes, then squeezed his shoulder. “I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. Okay? So just come out here whenever you want. Don’t feel awkward about it or anything. I’ll probably come out here to chill for a bit, too, or whatever.”

Wirt’s smile was grateful as he nodded. “Okay. Yeah, sure. Thanks. Really, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” They started back for the house, but Sara paused at the back door, a mischievous glint in her eyes that had him swallowing. “Just one rule about over there,” she told him, trying hard not to laugh. “No funny business or hanky panky back there. I saw the way you were admiring Dipper.”

“Not you, too,” Wirt groaned, back to square one as far as horrific embarrassment went. “Sara, he’s my boyfriend and I like how he looks. Why is that such a big deal?”

“It’s not,” she giggled as his face grew hot. “You’re the only one who thinks it’s a big deal. Well, and Trevor, but that’s just because he’s an even bigger dork than you are. We’re all rooting for you though, you know that, right?” Her smile softened and became less teasing as he shrugged. “Dipper is really cool, Wirt. And I don’t know how much of what happened while you were visiting him is true or just one of Greg’s stories, but it’s clear you guys are super close because of it and… I don’t know, that’s really great to see. I’m really happy you found someone you could be yourself with.”

Wirt rubbed the back of his neck, unable to meet her gaze for a moment. When he did though, there was a small, pleased smile tugging at his lips. “Me too. Even if I don’t know who myself is completely yet.”

“You’re getting there. There’s plenty of time to figure yourself out. Just take it easy.” With that said, she opened the door and let him in, most of the living room cleared out now. “You think Dipper’s still going to want to play me?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it. I gotta warn you though, he’s really good. And stop that, don’t look at me like that, I mean yeah he looks good while he’s doing it, but he’s also actually good. Shut up.” Wirt feigned a scowl as he nudged her, but she just grinned all the way down to the basement.

“I didn’t say anything,” she replied.

“You were thinking it.”

There were more teenagers dancing between them and the pool table now, and a good deal gathered around the two teens playing. Sara linked her arm with Wirt’s, keeping him close as they inched through. Having a wrestler pave the way certainly worked better than what Wirt had been doing earlier. As they got closer, he noticed that Dipper was still playing, though not against Mabel anymore. Apparently Trevor was getting his game in with the winner.

Dipper rubbed the back of his neck, lips twitching. “Uh. You want a mulligan, dude?”

Trevor snorted, shaking his head. “I don’t know, man, I think it’s hopeless at this point.”

“It was hopeless before you started, Trev. You didn’t have a chance against either of them,” Isabelle called out from where she sat with Mabel and Greg, the seven-year-old still adamant on holding the fort.

“I might’ve! It’s just not my night,” Trevor defended.

“It’s never your night.”

Wirt and Sara exchanged glances, both snickering to themselves as they made their way over. They almost bumped into two girls - Sara unwilling to release Wirt and risk losing him to the masses and the girls too busy staring at the pool table to notice them - and Wirt started to apologize to them when he realized just what exactly had their attention. Or who, rather.

“Who _is_ that?” a girl he recognized from his biology class last year was asking her friend as she watched Dipper twist the chalk on the tip of his cue.

“No, idea,” the other girl drawled. “Maybe he’s one of Funderberker’s friends. I mean, he knows, like, everyone.”

Wirt bristled, appalled that anyone could think that Dipper was Jason Funderberker’s, and the bristling only worsened when the first girl’s gaze roved over his boyfriend appreciatively, lingering on his- No. Nope. If Sara hadn’t tightened her grip on him, also listening in to their conversation, he would’ve gotten right in front of them and… and probably done nothing. He slumped some, pursing his lips together as they continued.

“Gotta be,” she confirmed, still watching as Dipper lined himself up, bent low by the pool table. “And seriously, bless him for inviting him.”

“I know, right? That butt in those jeans? Yum! Sign me up for the next round.”

While the two girls giggled, Sara released her hold on Wirt’s arm and placed her hand on his back for support instead. She nudged him forward, towards the pool table. “This is your moment, Wirt,” she told him, her tone low and fierce, like she was giving him a pep talk to rally him up before a big game or something. “Go show them who invited him. Go show them he’s your man.”

“What?” He cast her a sidelong look. “Sara, I don’t-”

“She just licked her lips and she’s looking at his butt again- why is he bending over that much? Wirt, you need to get him to stop that. I get that he’s going easy on Trevor, but come on, this is getting ridiculous. Go save him.” She shoved him past the girls and he stumbled forward all awkward limbs and zero grace.

But once he regained his balance he kept going. The last of the stripe balls spun into its pocket, with the eight ball not far behind thanks to careful calculations and the placement of the solid balls. The game was Dipper’s, but that had been clear from the start. And now, at least until Sara challenged him to her round, Dipper was his.

His heart fluttered nervously as he sidled up to him, fingers skimming along the wooden frame of the table until his front was pressed against Dipper’s side. Wirt hesitated only a moment, mostly because he didn’t want to time it badly and end up with a pool cue in his eye, then reached for his waist to turn him, the way Dipper’s eyes lit up at the sight of him urging him forward. A little too hasty, he bumped their lips together clumsily at first, but let the contact linger as he worked up the courage to deepen the kiss.

Dipper’s fingers tightened on the stick, surprised at first. Wirt was kissing him in front of a group of people. There was no way that was real, but the pressure stayed and the hands were still on his hips. He melted against him, tossing the cue stick onto the table so he could reach up and wrap his arms around Wirt’s neck. Unexpected, yes, but not unwelcome.

A happy, little hum escaped Wirt as the comfortable, familiar weight of his boyfriend holding onto him settled around his shoulders. He tugged him closer, fingers catching in his belt loops. He kissed him soundly, savoring every little gasp and arch against him. Letting up was the last thing he wanted, but air was important and his smile was getting in the way of their kissing, so he eased back a bit, peppering soft pecks at the corners of his mouth, his cheeks, and the tip of his nose.

“Okay,” Dipper breathed, keeping his eyes closed to savor each extra kiss. “Wow, okay. Um.” He laughed breathlessly, staying close. “Hi, Wirt.”

“Hi, Dipper.” Oh, that had been worth it, he decided easily, and ducked his head to press one more kiss to his neck. “No one should look as good as you do playing pool.”

Dipper bit his lip, color rising, but he was ecstatic. His heart swelled with a giddy sort of love, his shy boyfriend kissing and complimenting him in the middle of a crowd. He felt unashamedly claimed because there was really no way this wasn’t going to spread like wildfire. If not for the unashamed part, he would’ve been more embarrassed for both of them. “I don't know. If it gets you over here, looking good can’t really be a bad thing.”

It was when people thought his boyfriend had come with Jason Funderberker, but he couldn’t exactly complain when Dipper was looking at him like that. Wirt kissed him again, shorter and sweeter before he let go of his waist to take his hand. “Well, if you’re planning on playing more, I might just have to stay over here.”

Dipper immediately laced their fingers. “That kind of depends on whether or not you wanted to go dance with me or something.”

Wirt scuffed the toe of his shoe against the floor, gaze darting to their hands. “A little,” he admitted. “I mean, the promise of a dance with you is kinda what got me here in the first place.”

“Then let’s go. Mabel’s probably the only one actually worth playing if Trevor’s any indication, and I kicked her butt twice already. So there’s kinda no point.” He took a step back, grin spreading. “Plus, y’know, dancing with you involves you, so that tips the scales big time.”

Wirt laughed, nose scrunching and cheeks warming as he glanced up to smile back. “Good to know I make such a difference. Pretty much everyone here except me is better at pool than Trevor. And I think Sara’s still looking forward to playing you, but… I kinda want to have your attention now…”

“You’ve got it, trust me.” He started tugging Wirt through the crowd, brushing the two girls who’d been admiring him without seeing them. He only noticed Sara because Wirt had mentioned her name. “Hey, Sara, still down to play later?”

“Definitely.” She grinned, shooting Wirt a thumbs up and a wink that made him hide against Dipper’s shoulder. “You guys go enjoy yourselves. I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah.” Laughing, Dipper gave Wirt’s hand a squeeze. “Come on, man.”

“Right, yeah. Coming.” He squeezed back, then did his part to move them closer to what was set up as the dance floor.

Sticking more to the outside of the crowd, Wirt kept Dipper close just the same. Over his shoulder, he glimpsed the table in time to see Mabel whisking Greg off for a dance, Isabelle and Trevor promising to hold the fort in their stead. That was good, their siblings loved dancing and making mayhem.

The song playing wasn’t exactly fit for slow dancing together, more fast-paced, but still something Wirt vaguely recognized, enough that his hips could sway a little to the beat in any case. He fixated on Dipper’s face, all his attention going to him. Giving his hand another squeeze, he moved with a bit more purpose, smile shy and questioning.

“You’re fine, man.” Dipper’s grin was encouraging and he grabbed Wirt’s other hand to help guide his movements. His hips moved more freely, shoulders rocking in time with the bass. “Just move. Just dance with me.”

“Easy for you to say.” But he exhaled slowly and tried to ease into it. Dipper made it pretty hard not to feel at ease even surrounded by a bunch of his classmates who knew him and would see him in school for the next two years and point and laugh and-

But it wasn’t like anyone was watching them. When Wirt’s heart started pounding this time, it was only because he was dancing with his boyfriend and having Dipper’s eyes on him was really the only thing that mattered. He matched the shifting of his hips, a laugh bubbling out of him as he thought about how ridiculous he must’ve looked and didn’t care. Because no matter how awkward he looked, Dipper looked about a hundred times better.

“I think I’m going to have to dance with you as often as possible until you’re really comfortable with it, and I’m one hundred percent on board for that.” Dipper released his hands to spin, then grasped his forearms instead. The beat didn’t allow for them to be really close, but that didn’t mean he was going to keep as little distance between them as possible.

“I don’t think that’s possible, but I’m not gonna complain about more dancing with you so you can try.” Wirt wasn’t really sure what to do with his hands now, but he didn’t object to decreasing the distance. He was all for it, really. He gripped his arms back as he turned them both, somehow not managing to trip over himself or Dipper as he kept up the rocking of his hips and shoulders.

It was Dipper who almost tripped, grip tightening as his eyes went wide on a gasp of a laugh. “No, it’s totally possible. You’re way too cute, Wirt.”

His face warmed, but he flashed him a grin and a playful quirk of his eyebrow. “Didn’t know being cute was all I needed to be comfortable dancing, but I guess that explains why you are.”

He laughed, ignoring the embarrassment in favor of enjoying the compliment. “Duh. We’re just proof of the scientific fact I just made up.”

“Oh my gosh, you’re right.” Wirt let go of him to take his turn to spin and shimmy. “Look at that, I’m so comfortable dancing, Dipper. You’re a genius.”

It was too much. Wirt was too much. He was cute, funny in that sassy way, and too sweet, and Dipper loved him. He loved him so much he couldn’t stand it. The swell of affection bubbled out as a completely mortifying giggle that he immediately had to cover, a hand clapping over his mouth.

Delighted by his reaction, Wirt grabbed his waist and spun with him. “Genius and adorable, you’ve got a lot going for you.” He pressed close to him and swayed, the song shifting into something mildly slower.

“Oh my god.” He was embarrassed, but it wasn’t nearly enough to keep him from wrapping his arms around him. It was enough to have him hiding his face in the crook of his neck. “You’re killing my brain again, and I’m starting to think you’re totally doing it on purpose.”

“Only a little bit,” he admitted, smile pleased as he nuzzled him. “But you killed mine earlier, so I think it’s only fair.”

“I’ve noticed this is a recurring theme in our relationship.” Dipper nipped lightly at his neck, then pressed a warm kiss to the spot. “But really, you’re not going to wait all the way until the next party we’re dragged to to dance with me again. It’s fun to watch you, and slow jams are just a good excuse to get as close to you as possible.”

Wirt practically melted at the attention to his neck. “Okay,” he agreed, unable to find any reason not to. “I’ll dance with you. Whenever you want. It’s nice. I like it.”

“Yeah, it is.” Dipper kissed his way up, lips ghosting over Wirt’s skin until they could hover teasingly over his. “I’m really glad you got me away from the pool table.”

“Me too.” A soft sound escaped him as he swayed into Dipper, attempting to coax his boyfriend into an actual kiss with little nudges of his lips, heart stuttering and fluttering at the teasing. His grip on his hips tightened as he continued to rock them side to side. “You were attracting a lot of attention.”

“I only want one person’s.” His tongue peeked out, gliding along Wirt’s lower lip. “Guess whose.”

Lips parting for him, Wirt stole his kiss with an eager little noise he would’ve been embarrassed of if he wasn’t currently kissing him. For a moment he thought about being serious, but all the teasing he’d been put through so far and the playful energy still between the two of them swayed his decision. His stupid, giddy smile forced him to break the kiss and he ducked his head.

“Oh, I know who,” he replied, trying not to laugh as he glanced up at him coyly. “Jason Funderberker, right?”

He knew which he meant, but Dipper was in no mood to think of the dweeb while enjoying a slow dance and kisses with his boyfriend. “Why would I want a frog when I’ve got a beautiful poet?”

“Beautiful-?” Wirt’s teasing grin faded as he blinked, stunned but for a moment before feigning a look of concern. “Did you accidentally hit yourself in the head with your cue? I think you’re a little delirious.”

“Nope. My eyes work just fine.” Dipper lifted a hand to thread in his boyfriend's hair, some of the teasing fading. “They're definitely seeing you and you're beautiful.”

“You’re impossible,” he murmured in reply, heart leaping into his throat at the shift in tone even as his head tilted into the touch.

“Yeah, but you like me anyway.” Dipper captured his lips again, greedy for every single chance they had to connect. Their month slipped by with every single day.

“I do,” he confirmed as his breath hitched, arms wrapping around his waist, their dance paused for the moment as he basked in the warmth Dipper inspired. He more than liked him, but was content to leave it at that for the time being. “I really, really do. I hope you’re happy ‘cause you’re pretty much stuck with me.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. It’s a rock fact.”

“I can live with that.” The music picked up tempo, but Dipper wasn’t quite in the mood for a fast song. Leaning back a bit, he grinned. “You want to go find somewhere where we can hold hands and makeout and other assorted boyfriend things?”

“Yes.” Wirt flushed at his own quick response, rubbing at his neck. “And um… well, you’re in luck because I have just the spot. Off limits to everyone except us. And, well, Sara since this is her house. Just might have to be conscious of the uh… the assorted boyfriend things in case she comes by, since she said- nevermind. But yeah. I’ll just stop talking so we can go.”

He slipped his hand into Dipper’s and squeezed. Of course he could only be cool and confident and funny for so long before getting all flustered and tongue-tied. Weaving through the other teens with the occasional “excuse us, sorry,” Wirt led his boyfriend towards the stairs. Almost out of nowhere, Greg bounded up in front of them, no Mabel in sight.

“Greg?” Wirt blinked as he effectively blocked their way. “What are you doing? Why aren’t you with Mabel?”

“I’m on a special scavenger hunt mission!” he informed him, hands on his hips.

Wirt frowned. “That doesn’t explain why you’re not with Mabel. There are a lot of people down here now, you can’t just go running off.”

“I didn’t. I told her I needed to talk to you and she’s right over there.” Greg pointed behind them a little ways away and sure enough she was smiling and waving at them.

“Okay. Fair enough. What do you need?” Wirt asked, concern suddenly shoving disapproval out of the way. “Are you okay? Did something happen? Do you want to go home?”

“No, I told you I’m on a mission,” he replied. “I need a baseball cap for my scavenger hunt and I didn’t know where to find one, but then I remembered Dipper has one.” Greg smiled up at his honorary big brother. “Can I borrow it for a little bit, Dipper? Please? I’ll take good care of it, promise.”

“What? No, Greg, you can’t have his hat,” Wirt told him, surprising him.

Greg raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because.”

“That’s not a very good reason, Wirt,” he huffed. “And it’s not your hat, it’s Dipper’s. You don’t get to decide.”

_No_. The refusal bounded through the hat’s owner, immediate and forceful. He wasn’t taking it off. There was no reason to take his hat off. No reason to relinquish it to anyone for any reason. It wasn’t going to happen. Dipper ducked his head, tugging at the brim of the old cap. It hid the way his face had paled.

But then his sense kicked in. He had no reason to not give Greg the hat. Sure, a simple “it’s my hat and I want to keep a hold of it” was a perfectly legitimate one, but it wasn’t the true one. It wasn’t the one he wanted to give his honorary little brother. Of course, he couldn’t tell him the truth either because that would mean showing him and Dipper felt queasy just by the idea of doing that.

Beyond not having a good excuse, though, was the knowledge that this was weird. This wasn’t like him. A few weeks before, he would have taken the cap off and handed it over without a fight. His bangs did a good job of hiding the birthmark on his forehead.

But would they hide the scar?

Swallowing, Dipper gave himself a moment to compose himself. Of course they would. It was fine. Everything was fine. Gideon had traced the lines perfectly, so-

He had to give himself another moment, but flipped off his hat and offered it. His bangs would hide the mark just fine. He wasn’t dependent on his hat. He wasn’t that pathetic. “Just...” He had to clear his throat, but pulled off the smile. “Sure, man. I can’t let you fail a scavenger hunt. Just be careful with it, okay?”

“Dipper-” Wirt started, brow furrowing in concern, but Greg took the cap in his hands, his hold gentle as he beamed at him.

“Thanks, Dipper! I'll take real good care of it.” He crossed his heart with his finger.

“I know you will. Do me a favor, though, and don’t...” He glanced at his twin, who had stopped waving and was now flailing her hands over the top of her own head. It didn’t help his state of mind, and he had to stop himself when he realized he was reaching up to tug at his bangs. Everything was fine. “Don’t wander too far off from Mabel while you’ve got it.”

“Okay.” Greg gave him a thumbs up, then cradled the hat to his chest as he made his way back over to her.

Wringing his hands together, Wirt glanced from his little brother to his boyfriend. “Are you sure? You really didn’t have to give it to him. I’m sure Sara has baseball caps in her room that we could’ve grabbed.”

He winced, but waved a hand. “No, it’s fine. It’s just til he finishes his game, anyway, so no big deal.” His bangs covered everything just fine. They did. He knew they did. Smiling, he took one of Wirt’s hands to stop their wringing. It made him want to mimic the motions. “Come on. We were headed out of here, right?”

Wirt hesitated, searching his smile for the traces of discomfort he knew were lingering underneath it. But if Dipper said he was fine… “Okay.” He squeezed his hand, then led him up the stairs and out to the backyard. The quiet that greeted them was a relief, for Wirt at least, the night air mild and refreshing. They went around the side of the house before Wirt paused to face him and kiss him. Not demanding or the kind of boyfriend, making out things they’d talked about. It was a soft reminder that he was there, that he could lean on him in place of the hat.

Going through people had become more of a chore than it had been before losing the security of the hat, Dipper’s fingers twisting and tugging at his bangs to make sure that they stayed in place. Outside, away from them all, he could take the comfort for what it was.

He cupped Wirt’s cheeks, smiling. “Stop worrying. I’m fine.”

“Sorry, I just- you haven’t taken your hat off much here and it’s… I want to be sure you’re comfortable, you know?” Because he hadn’t had much opportunity to, Wirt threaded his fingers through his hair, making sure to stay towards the back of his head.

“It’s not a big deal.” It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t let it be. But, still, Dipper lifted up a bit, letting their brows rest together.

“Okay.” Wirt rubbed his forehead to Dipper’s. “So… boyfriend things. Right. Let’s uh… let’s pick up where we left off?” he suggested, taking them back into territory that didn’t involve him worrying too much or Dipper thinking too much about the birthmark and matching scar on his forehead.

“Which was where exactly?” Dipper’s hands slid from his face to wrap around his neck, curling into the back of his sweater. Teasing, kissing, being normal - it would help steady him. And so did reminding himself that Wirt already knew. He knew what he was hiding, though the last time he’d seen it, it had been running red with his blood. He stamped the thought out immediately, angling his head to let their lips brush. “Think I need a reminder.”

“Well… I know we were dancing.” It was Wirt’s turn to let his lips hover teasingly over Dipper’s, ending the soft kiss too soon while his hands drifted to cup his hips. He swayed with him, despite the absence of music. “And you were being adorable, but also saying unreasonable things. Probably because I killed your brain one too many times.”

“Mm. It’s starting to come back, maybe.” It was probably cheating, but Dipper flicked his tongue out to dampen Wirt’s lip and hopefully draw him into a better kiss. “It doesn’t seem that unreasonable to think my boyfriend’s beautiful, especially when it’s you.”

“That’s exactly why it’s unreasonable,” he breathed, licking his lips for the trace of Dipper’s, then gave him what he wanted. A slightly better kiss. Still too short and not deep enough, Wirt’s smile daring him to do something about it.

“Alright, alright,” he hummed, the quirk of his lips all mischief. “You’re totally right. It’s unreasonable. The adjective’s not strong enough and just one isn’t enough. My cute, beautiful, _gorgeous_ boyfriend,” he hummed, punctuating each compliment with a kiss that got teasingly deeper. With the last one, he lifted a hand to Wirt’s hair to keep him in place, lifted to his toes for good measure, and fused their lips together. It was immediately deep, his tongue preventing any sort of argument.

If he did get one, it came in the form of small, pleased sounds and was more acceptance than argument. His arm found its way around Dipper’s back, fingers clinging to his shirt while his other hand went up to tangle in his thick curls. Luscious and smooth and soft, oh, he loved his hair. He loved his mouth, whether it was speaking or kissing him enough to make the world melt away around them. Wirt toyed with his tongue, taking a step back on wobbly knees and taking Dipper with him. He sank into one of the chairs propped up against the wall of the house and tugged him down across his lap to straddle it.

Dipper’s laugh broke the kiss for a moment, but then he was snuggling closer and kissing him again. This was better, this was beautifully distracting. He was very aware of the hands in his hair, but that only sped his heart along in the most pleasant of ways. No one touched his hair. He barely did, the hat a veritable extension of himself, so trusting Wirt to touch - and enjoying it, no less - was a big deal to him. He didn’t know how to show him without breaking the kiss to explain, so went pliant in his arms but for eager, delighted petting of what he could reach.

Wirt hummed happily, arching into his hands as he took the permission for what it was. He raked his nails lightly against his scalp, alternating between stroking his hair and massaging down to the nape of his neck. As much as he loved Dipper’s hat - the article indeed almost as much a part of him as his actual body parts - the thrill of getting to renew his familiarity with this seemingly off-limits part of him crackled beneath his skin like an electric current spiking with each new touch and Dipper’s reaction to him. He was all warmth and enthusiasm and Wirt was all too happy to bundle himself up in Dipper Pines.

The kiss was ended reluctantly, though Dipper's attention wasn't nearly over. His lips explored his face, his neck. His teeth nipped Wirt's earlobe, eager for every reaction he could get. “Important question: opinion on hickies?”

Wirt’s face flooded with color. “Wha-? Um. Well, I- uh- never thought I’d ever get one?” he squeaked out, but he didn’t hide his neck and a pleasant sort of shiver rolled through him at the idea of having a mark, a claim, that was entirely Dipper’s.

He grinned, wriggling in his lap like an excitable, nippy kitten. “Just let me know if I should stop.” He kissed down to his neck, humming against his skin as he picked a spot to stake his claim. Teeth, tongue, and lips worked to mark him.

Embarrassed by the sound that escaped him, Wirt pressed his lips together to prevent any more as his heart pounded and he squirmed right back beneath him. His hands went to his hips when the chair rocked dangerously, not meant for two excited, teen boys to be making out or leaving hickies. He held Dipper tightly to keep him from falling, not that that would do much good because if the chair went, then they were both going down with it. But even with that minor threat, he wasn’t going to tell him to stop.

“You done this before?” he asked breathlessly, curious when his mouth was just so clever. “Or are you naturally this good?”

Unsure whether he should evade the question or tell the truth, Dipper sucked on the patch of skin for an extra moment before lifting his head. He ran his tongue over his lips, pleased by the steadily darkening mark. “Uh. Y’know. I’ve...” He couldn’t have said why, but it felt like a betrayal of sorts to have a history. “I’ve, uh, done it before.”

Catching his breath, Wirt blinked up at him, flush fading some as he offered him a smile. “Hey, that’s okay. I was just wondering. I mean, I figured that I’m not your first boyfriend, just ‘cause… I mean, look at you, you got like half the party’s attention just by playing pool. Unless everyone in California is as hot as you - which from the limited time I’ve been there, I can say that’s not true - then obviously you’ve had… opportunities for relationships, I guess.”

Dipper snorted. “Relationship, maybe. I don’t count the girl since that was just, like, a wake-up call. And the guy was just a couple weeks after her, and that’s it. Freshman year was weird, and last year there was just nobody who... There was just nobody.”

“Really?” Wirt rubbed along his sides, a little stunned and a lot pleased by the gap between him and Dipper’s last interest. “Nobody caught your fancy?”

There had been a crush here and there, but nothing that had seemed worth it. Nothing that hadn’t dimmed as quickly as it had flared. “I kind of felt like if I was going to be with someone, I had to trust them first. That’s not easy for me, anyway, so... yeah.”

Wirt hummed, very conscious of the swell of affection that washed through him. Except it was more than affection. It felt very much like love, he reflected, lifting one hand so his fingers could brush the spot where his neck still throbbed from Dipper’s attention. It was still hard to fathom that Dipper did trust him - not only now, but in the beginning, after their brief stint in The Unknown.

“That makes sense. I get that,” he replied. “It’d be hard to love someone if you couldn’t trust them. Or like… what’s the point, you know?”

Dipper’s gaze dropped to the mark, smile returning. It was worth having had a boyfriend before if it meant knowing how to leave visible traces of their relationship. He’d left the forming bruise well above Wirt’s collar, so there would be no hiding it. Satisfied, he reached up as though to push the bill of his cap back, but only found his bangs. He tensed for a moment, smile faltering, until he shook his head and let his hand fall to Wirt’s chest, curling over his heart..

“Yeah.” It was a lot easier to love when there was trust. He ducked his head again, tongue laving over the mark to see what deliciously distracting noises he could wring from his boyfriend.

Distracted himself by the way Dipper tensed and tugged at his bangs, Wirt had meant to say something much more coherent than the sudden, keening gasp that he had to clap his hand over his mouth to stop. “Dipper!” His voice muffled by his palm, he tried to give him an unimpressed look despite the flood of warmth in his face.

He laughed. “I don’t know why you keep holding those back. I love hearing them.”

“I don’t know…” he mumbled, leaving his hand where it was as he watched him warily, unsure if he’d try to get him to make more sounds. “It’s weird to hear myself, I guess. I sound all…” He waved his free hand in a vague gesture. “I just wasn’t prepared.”

“You sound all... like you’re enjoying the things I do. Come on, man.” Dipper pet his sides, grinning. “As a writer, you should know that feedback is seriously important.”

Wirt snorted, but he lowered his hand, lips quirking in a sideways smile. “Okay, you have a point,” he acquiesced, wiggling in his seat before ducking his head to press a kiss to the column of his throat. “And I do… enjoy the things you do. A lot. Pretty much all the time.” He rubbed his lips firmly against his neck, then tried a little lick of his own.

Dipper gasped, not willing to be the hypocrite and very willing to encourage anything Wirt was willing to do. “I know. You wouldn’t let me do them if you didn’t, but it’s still nice to hear.”

“It is,” he agreed, fingers curling into his shirt as he continued to kiss and lap at his skin. “Can I…? Is it okay, if I- um…” Wirt nipped him lightly, then pulled back to gauge his permission.

“Oh my god, yes. Just bite me already, seriously.” Dipper blinked. “Wait. That came out kind of weird, and- Just... just whatever. You know what I mean.”

Wirt laughed, the sound born both of surprise and his nerves relaxing as he grinned at him. “Okay. Okay, yeah, sure,” he replied with a giggle, nuzzling the crook of his neck before attempting to mimic what Dipper had done not minutes before. Knowing he’d had experience with this before made him a little hesitant, but he tried. He bit down, carefully at first, then a little harder, quick to soothe with swipes of his tongue.

He didn’t bother to hold back the whimper, as eager to be claimed as he’d been to claim. “Y-yeah. Like- like that.”

Humming, Wirt made his own pleased sound as he finished nipping at him with a firm kiss. “Yeah?” He tilted his head as he surveyed the mark he left behind, a jolt of possession surging through him.

“Oh, yeah.” Dipper melted in his lap, the sting so very welcome. He was wanted. “Anytime you want to practice, you can.”

“Good to know, because I think I’m gonna need a lot of practice.” Wirt reached up and stroked his hair, then brushed his lips with a tender kiss.

Smiling, Dipper sank into it, deepening it degree by degree until his mind floated in a heavy fog. “I’m here, willing and available, for all practicing needed,” he murmured.

Wirt’s answering smile was a little dizzy and a lot adoring. “Yeah you are,” he replied dazedly, blushing when the back door shutting surprised him out of his stupor and he realized just how intelligent he sounded. It was too easy to get caught up in everything that was Dipper, not that he minded, but he still couldn’t help glancing towards the rest of the backyard, able to hear voices on the porch by the sliding door. He fidgeted, rocking the chair a bit and held fast to Dipper’s waist. “Um… maybe, uh… maybe we could save more practice for later?”

“Yeah.” Dipper rubbed their noses together fondly. “We should probably go in and see what mayhem the siblings have caused.” And, hopefully, Greg would be finished with his scavenger hunt and he could get his hat back.

“Right. Good plan. Plus you still have that game of pool with Sara and, um… maybe when… when you’re done we could- I could dance with you again. Maybe. If you wanted to.” Wirt shrugged, pursing his lips as he averted his gaze.

With a laugh, he dropped a kiss to the hickey he’d left behind. “Absolutely. Got to have a victory dance since, y’know, I’m winning that game. She’s going down.”

Wirt’s shy smile grew as he quirked up an eyebrow. “You sound so certain. Careful you don’t get too cocky.” He squeezed his sides. “She might surprise you.”

“If she does, I won’t mind. I’m still going to win, though.” Reluctantly, he wriggled out of Wirt’s lap and reached up for his hat to adjust it. His fingers tightened when they met only hair and he very deliberately shoved his hands into his pockets. Right. Going back inside meant wading through a crowd without his hat. No big deal. He’d done it on the way out here. He’d been with Wirt the entire time without anything going wrong. He rocked back on his heels. “I mean, it’s my game. Grunkle Stan can’t even take me down anymore.”

“Well, you are brilliant.” Wirt rose from the chair after him, blushing as he adjusted his sweater from where it had ridden up and cleared his throat. He dragged his fingers through his own hair as he glanced to the top of Dipper’s head. Dropping his hand so he could take his boyfriend’s, he offered him a reassuring squeeze. “Come on, I miss your hat. If Greg’s not done with it by now, then I’m invoking captain’s orders.”

Dipper laced their fingers, nod more eager than he meant it to be. “I don’t think we’ll need to resort to that, but sure.”

“You never can tell with Greg,” he reminded him.

They came around the side of the house, picking their way past the teens who’d come out for some air as well. Wirt ducked his head when their gazes went straight to the two boys who’d been out of sight for quite some time, but all they offered was a friendly enough greeting to Wirt. He wasn’t sure who they were in the dark, but had a feeling they were from history class or something. Offering a wave in return - because that was the polite thing to do - he slid open the door and let Dipper go in first, following right on his heel.

There were a few more people back upstairs getting drinks and snacks, including the two girls who’d been checking Dipper out and presuming he was Jason Funderberker’s friend. A small flare of jealousy burned, but one glance at the mark he’d left on his neck and knowing he had a matching one on his neck combated that easily with satisfaction. Heading over to the basement door with his head held high now with the reminder, Wirt nearly tripped over his little brother when he bounded right up the steps and into them.

“Greg!” he gasped, hand going over his heart as it threatened to pop out of his chest, then he glowered. “Watch where you’re going, you’ve gotta be careful on stairs.”

“Sorry about that, brother o’ mine.” Greg nodded to them both, then tried to squeeze between them to get to the kitchen. Sans hat.

“Wait a second.” Wirt nabbed him quickly, spinning him around to face him. “Where’s Dipper’s hat?”

Greg blinked at him. “With Mabel. I got thirsty, so I left it with her so I could come up here and not accidentally spill on it. That’s okay, right?” He looked past Wirt for Dipper’s approval or condemnation.

The miniature heart attack he’d been having since realizing the boy didn’t have his cap eased some, and he nodded. Mabel would keep it safe. She understood. “It’s fine, Greg. She at the table?” He could go down, grab it, and all would be well.

“Yeah. Are you okay, Dipper?” he asked, tilting his head. “I’m sorry. Mabel said she’d watch it for me. I didn’t know when you guys were coming back and I wanted a drink.”

Wirt sighed and squeezed his little brother’s shoulder, feeling a little guilty for leaving him alone to go make out with his boyfriend, even though he didn’t appear any worse for the wear and making out with Dipper had been quite the highlight of their evening so far. “No, Greg, you did the right thing giving it to Mabel. Sorry we took so long. Come on, I’ll go with you to get you your drink.” He flicked his gaze over to Dipper, doing his own little check on him. “Meet you downstairs?”

“Yeah.” His grin was a little distracted, but he made sure to focus on Greg. “I’m fine, okay? Just let me know how the scavenger hunt went when you get downstairs. My contribution had better not have been in vain.”

“Okay, I will. It’s a good story, your hat made all the difference.” Greg nodded firmly, taking Wirt’s hand when his brother offered it. “Want us to bring you a soda or a snack?”

He laughed, waving a hand. “No, I’m good. Go get your drink, Greg.”

“Alright, admiral.” Greg nodded and let Wirt lead him away, both brothers watching him over their shoulders before nearly bumping into other party-goers and turned their attention fully towards the table across the room.

When they looked away from him, Dipper wiped damp palms on his jeans and turned back towards the stairs with more than a little relief. He needed the hat back. By himself, he could admit that. He still winced over it, hating the weakness, but he could admit to having it.

He stopped before he could take the first step, looking up when his name was called by an unfamiliar voice. Two girls surrounded him and he immediately shrank back. They advanced, both with bright eyes and brighter smiles. They should’ve been harmless, and of course they were, but Dipper still felt a tightening in his gut. The knot worked its way up, churning in his stomach, skipping his heart, stopping up his lungs.

Did they know him from his channel? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been recognized somewhere random for that. Or had they noticed him earlier? He didn’t know, and his gaze was a little panicked when it flicked to the stairs they were making him retreat from. He finally just stopped moving back and held up his hands defensively, realizing how stupid he looked backing away from a couple of girls. “Yeah? Uh. Hi.”

“Wow, you’re even cuter up close.”

“For real.”

He lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck, gaze darting from one to the other as he tried a smile. _Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Breathe, man._ His bangs were hiding the mark. Everything was still fine. “Listen, girls, I’m not-”

Whatever easy let down he was going to use backed up in his lungs when one took a step forward and touched his face. He stiffened immediately, back in the basement, unable to move as Lil’ Gideon made a delighted little noise and pushed up his bangs. Like he knew right where to go. Like his bangs didn’t hide a single thing.

His bangs didn’t hide anything, and he didn’t have his hat.

Panic swelled, heart thrumming between his ears, and he was jumping back. “Don’t!” he yelped as if burned and the girl blinked at him. Her hand hadn’t left his cheek, and she’d been in the middle of a sentence.

Other eyes were on him, too, the outcry loud enough to draw attention. He yanked at his bangs desperately, blood draining from his face as he backed away. He hit a wall and would’ve sunk down, curled up right there on the floor, but people were staring. People were staring and his bangs hid nothing.

With a choked sound, he turned and fled, tripping on his way up the stairs he located by accident. He cracked his chin on a step, biting his tongue sharply, but the inconvenience was barely noticeable as he charged back to his feet and he swung open the first door he came across. The unoccupied closet was a blessing, a reprieve from eyes, so he slammed the door and curled up in a corner, pressing his face to his knees and whimpering, shoulders shaking.

_Don’t look at me!_ He yanked at his bangs hard enough to hurt, feeling the blade digging into his forehead. But that wasn’t right. He’d been asleep. He’d passed out after the first cut. He shouldn’t feel it. “Stop it,” he breathed, staring blindly at the toes of his shoes, seeing a dying man’s eyes on his, begging for help Dipper couldn’t provide. “Stop it, stop it. Don’t look at me.”


	10. Chapter 10

After seconds, minutes, or hours, there was a soft knock on the closet door. Other rooms had been searched, the small, dark closet not a place Wirt wanted to imagine him seeking shelter in, but he tried it just the same. “Dipper? Dipper, are you in there? Can I come in?” he asked, his voice easing in through the wooden door barring them from each other. “I’ve… I’ve got your hat.”

His eyes were painfully dry, rooted to a spot on the floor, and the only response he could make was a wheeze. Wirt knew about the mark, but he hadn’t seen it. He hadn’t seen the scar. No one would ever see the scar. His fingers dragged through his bangs anew. _Don’t look at me, don’t look, don’t, don’t, don’t._

“Dipper? Are you okay?” Wirt’s tone rose with worry and when he didn’t receive any further response, he turned the handle. “I’m coming in. Watch the door.”

A sliver of light from the hallway revealed Dipper tugging on his bangs, hunched in a small, shivering ball. Wirt froze in the doorway, heart aching at the sight of his faraway gaze. When he flinched, Wirt quickly squeezed inside and shut the door behind him, shrouding them both in darkness. Cramped, not very comfortable, darkness. Feeling in front of him, Wirt hunkered down close to him. Slowly, even though Dipper probably couldn’t see him at all, he reached for his wrist, fingers curling around it as gentle as he could be.

“Dipper, it’s okay. You’re safe,” he murmured.

He flinched again, gaze snapping to him, eyes as wild and frightened as they’d been in the museum’s basement. Awareness seeped into them slowly, shoulders going slack as the voice and gentle hold told him who it was. “H-hat. You have my-?”

“Yeah.” Wirt nodded, showing the pine tree emblazoned article to him by letting him feel it before he eased closer to fit it upon his head, tugging on the bill to make sure it was secure. “There you go. You’re okay.”

Knuckles went white, Dipper’s one-handed grip on the bill immediately desperate. The other hand reached out, pawing at his sweater, desperate for the proximity of someone he could really and truly trust. Someone who had brought him his hat. Someone who had spent time with him without pushing his bangs back to see what lay beneath.

Someone he was stupidly in love with.

He couldn’t make himself uncurl, still trembling as he touched Wirt. The pressure was heavy in his chest, threatening to burst and consume him. Anxious, terrified, and insecure - he couldn’t grip and tug him close. He didn’t want him to be close, yet needed him close. The confused tangle ping-ponged between his heart and brain, speeding up and slowing them down respectively.

Wirt waited a moment to see if Dipper would calm at all, his own anxiety tumbling in his gut. It was like when he found him in the basement of the museum all over again. Cut up and bleeding and unsure of the extent of his injuries. There’d been blood all over him, his hands and sweater, then that moment where Dipper lost his grip on consciousness and just slumped against him. Dead weight. Dead.

Wirt placed one hand over the one trying to grip his sweater, guiding his fingers to hold onto him and rubbed his thumb over the back of it. His other hand cupped his cheek, Dipper’s skin cold and clammy and panicked and nothing like the wiggling warmth he’d been earlier. “You’re okay,” he whispered. “You’re safe with me, I promise.” His eyes adjusted to the dark some, able to make out the fear and the need trembling in his frame. “Can I hold you? Is that okay?” Wirt asked him, desperate to do something for him, but not if he didn’t want it.

Dipper nodded, not trusting his voice. Safe with him. He was probably safe with Wirt. He trusted him, he did.

Wirt lowered his hands and shifted closer, pressing right up against his side. He draped one arm around his shoulders, then wrapped the other around him as he rested his cheek atop the pine tree cap that was rightfully on his head as he tucked him up into him. Squeezing a little, he rubbed his arms and sides to soothe him, to ease the tremors.

“Just relax. Just let me hold you. You don’t have to think about anything else right now.”

There was so much to think about. So much had gone wrong. He’d done so many things wrong in that basement. He was doing so many things wrong at this party, giving away his hat, panicking because some girl had touched his face. Hiding. Pathetic. Desperate. Warm. Safe. Held.

His breath caught. Warm and safe and held. No judgement, just comfort. Wirt was all soft words and firm trust.

Wrapped up in it and in him, Dipper slowly started to relax. Toes and fingers first, the desperate grip of his sweater lessening to a gentle hold and the death grip on his cap falling away entirely. His shoulders and down his spine, the tightly curled hunch uncoiling so he could lean into and accept the embrace. His neck, head bobbing as it lolled against Wirt’s chest.

He sighed quietly, eyes drifting shut, as the pressure in his chest eased and lessened. He took another few seconds to bask in the pleasant return to normalcy. “Thanks. Sorry,” he whispered.

“You don’t have to apologize. I get it.” Wirt nuzzled him, pressing his lips to the hat firmly enough so he could feel it while letting him sag against him. “You want to talk about it at all? I didn’t see what happened, I just heard you and-” And his heart pretty much stopped at the sheer desperation and panic in the single word. “It’s okay if you don’t. We can just sit here for however long you need.”

“I... I don’t know. I haven’t had one - a panic attack in a while. I used to get them when I was a kid. Just... stupid stuff would set me off, and this isn’t really any different.” He tugged at his hat, vastly relieved to find the article where it belonged. “Before I could get downstairs, these two girls cornered me and one of them just got too close, I guess. She touched my face, and it freaked me out.”

“I’m sorry.” Wirt rocked him gently, refusing to let up his hold on him in the slightest, not unless he was asked. “I mean, that would be uncomfortable enough on it’s own, but you were already feeling kind of… I knew you needed your hat. I’m sorry. I should’ve stopped Greg from taking it in the first place. Did she-? Did she try to move your bangs at all?”

“No, just- I don’t know. No. I moved away.” He’d run away like a startled kitten. Thinking about it didn’t help, so he turned his head to bury his face in Wirt’s chest. “But it’s- it’s okay. It’s fine. It’s just- just a hat. Greg doesn’t know any better. I gave it to him. No big deal.”

“Yeah, but I know better and I should’ve made him give it back.” He shifted, stretching his legs out until they bumped into the opposite wall and bundled Dipper up into his lap, letting him burrow against him as much as he needed. “It’s a big deal to you. But it’s okay now. No one saw.”

It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal. The hat had always been important, a security measure against outside judgement of his namesake. But he’d grown beyond panic attacks. He’d grown beyond seeing the taunting faces of those who had made him start hiding the birthmark. He couldn’t let stupid Gideon bring that fear back.

He reached up to pull the hat off in defiance, but tugged it on more securely, shifting it to not hinder the needy way he rubbed his cheek against his boyfriend’s chest. He could worry about the implications of that later, turning his attention to the arms around him, cradling him, holding him close and safe. He couldn’t remember the last time someone else’s embrace had made him feel safe.

“Maybe not the mark, but I know people saw me spaz. Sorry. I’m not trying to be a big, dumb embarrassment.”

Wirt’s brow furrowed, heart clenching at the assumption and it was his turn to grip his shirt tightly. “You’re not. No way. Not possible. I’m still just as proud to call you mine when you need to get away from people and take some time to calm down as I am when you’re kicking everyone’s butt at pool. It’s not like you wanted to have a panic attack. Not to mention I’m the last person on the planet who you’d need to apologize to for that. I…” His throat tightened around the words that wanted to rise up and soothe him, morphing into something more palatable for now. “I really care about you. You being okay matters more to me than whatever anyone out there thinks.”

“Seriously?”

“Of course seriously.” He was almost indignant at the question. Wirt lessened his hold only so he could look at him, so Dipper could see just how much he meant it. “You’re my boyfriend. You’re important to me. You’re… you’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.”

Dipper stared at him, grateful that the darkness masked his blush. “Oh. I...” He shifted closer, fitting their lips together gently, as if Wirt was the one who needed soothing. “Okay.”

Sighing against his mouth, aware of the distraction, Wirt hugged him closer, petting his side. He broke the kiss to press more to the corners of his mouth and down along his jaw, mindful of anything that put him in close contact with the bill of his hat. He wanted him to feel wanted though, and hoped each brush of his lips on his skin conveyed that. He wanted him to feel important.

“Just let me know when you feel up to getting out of here. I’ll grab Greg and Mabel and we can head home. Cuddle on the couch and watch a movie or something. Whatever you want,” he told him as he kissed his way back to his lips.

His protest was lost in the kiss, Dipper eager to sink into it, into his boyfriend’s wonderful brand of comfort. He’d suffer more panic attacks if they led to more kisses and cuddles, but was very relieved to know both were already offered freely.

When he broke the kiss, it was to nuzzle against his neck, letting Wirt feel the curve of his lips. “I don’t want to go home yet. I don’t want to mess up Greg and Mabel’s fun, and I still have to kick Sara’s butt in pool. Plus, you asked me to dance with you again. No way am I missing out on that. Not because of some freakout.”

“Greg and Mabel can have fun doing pretty much anything, you know that. And we can always come back over tomorrow or next week or something so you can play pool against Sara. And… I’ll dance with you at home. It’s not the same as at a party, but…” Wirt tightened his hold on him, focusing on his warmth and the way he nestled against him, conscious and physically fine. “Just don’t feel like you have to push yourself.”

“I’m not.” Dipper finally wound his arms around Wirt in return. “Life doesn’t stop just ‘cause I panicked, man. I want to stay.”

Lips twisting to the side, still not entirely convinced, Wirt huffed out a sigh and nodded nonetheless. “Okay. If that’s what you want.” He accepted, pressing his cheek to the side of his head. “But if you start to feel bad or anything, let me know and we’ll get out of here, yeah? Yeah, life doesn’t stop, but it’s not like this is an important, life-defining thing. It’s a party.”

“I know, but... I don’t know. There’s also, I mean, I don’t want to make Greg feel bad? Like him asking for my hat means everything just stops. You know? He’s smart enough to put that together, and I don’t want him to.”

Wirt had to agree with that, albeit reluctantly. “I know. He’s crazy observant and good at piecing things together. He’s going to become you someday and we’ll never be able to pull things past him again.” He lightened his tone enough to be teasing. “Thanks though. For looking out for him. I know he’d be upset. He wanted to come with me to find you as it was. But… if we stay long enough, I can say that it’s me that needs to go home. Greg’s used to that. It’ll probably be true within the hour anyway.”

“Way to take one for the team, pilgrim.” Dipper straightened, finding Wirt’s mouth first with fingertips and then his lips. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

“Okay- wait. One more for luck.”

Wirt drew him into a second kiss. Squeezing his shoulder, he let Dipper slide off his lap, then fumbled to find a way to his feet in the cramped closet. He stumbled into the wall opposite them, all limbs and no grace, but somehow managed not to fall completely on his face. He opened the door, taking Dipper’s hand to lead him out, casting him a lingering look before they left the shelter of the closet completely.

“You’re really something, you know that?” He couldn’t help saying, taking the time to admire Dipper’s strength.

He blinked, lacing their fingers. “What do you mean?”

“You’re brave. Resilient. You don’t let anything keep you down for long. You’re always willing to keep going, no matter what. It’s… I admire that. I admire you,” he admitted with a shy smile, then guided him out into the hall, taking a page from Dipper’s book and staying a half-step ahead of him on their way to rejoin the fray.

Dipper blinked, the surprising words enough to keep him from overtaking Wirt. He always led. “When the world fights, fight back. Not everything’s easy, but...” He tugged at the bill of his cap, so much more comfortable with it on. “I don’t know.”

Wirt glanced at him over his shoulder. “It’s one thing to say, but another to actually commit to.”

“I guess. I just do what I have to.” He pressed a little closer when they reached the main floor, but he didn’t see the girls who had panicked him. Huffing a relieved breath, he let Wirt continue to guide their way to the basement. “If you admire me for that, though, I’m really glad you know me now and not when I was a kid. Well, you know, besides the blip where you did. Fighting back took practice.”

“I admire you for other things, too.” Wirt squeezed his hand, making sure to stand between as many people and Dipper as possible. Even if he felt better, felt up to this, he was his boyfriend and he was off-limits. To all except Greg, that is.

Wirt stepped aside to let his little brother latch onto Dipper’s leg once they’d been spotted in the basement. “Dipper! You’re okay!” He looked up at him, expression honestly concerned that a terrible fate had befallen him.

His grin came easy, and he reached down to hike the boy up for a hug. “Yeah, man. I’m good.”

“Did Wirt help you? Did he make you feel better? He helps me when I don’t feel good. He rubs my back or sings me songs. You should have him do that if you still need to feel better. And get a hug, hugs are good,” he babbled, wrapping his arms around him tightly. “Wirt gives great hugs.”

“I know he does. I feel better, Greg. I’m okay. It’s not your fault,” he added quietly, knowing where the babbling was coming from.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Greg sniffled and rubbed his face against his shoulder. “I won’t ever ask for it again, and that’s a rock fact. One of Wirt’s rock facts. A true one.”

“No, hey, come on. It’s okay.” He searched for Mabel, relieved to find her already walking up to them.

“I told him you get anxious without it since it’s the first present Grunkle Stan gave you. And, obviously, you wear it everywhere.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed Greg’s back soothingly, grateful for the half-truth. “It’s okay, man. I freaked out some, but it’s not your fault.”

“That’s right, Greg,” Wirt chimed in, going around to try and get his brother to look up. “You know how I freak out sometimes just because of a lot of different things happening? That’s kinda what happened here. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, it was just something that happened and the timing was bad.”

Greg lifted his head, looking first at Wirt, then at Dipper, then back. “Like when it’s snowing sometimes for you or that time at Trevor’s house?”

“Exactly like that,” Wirt confirmed. “Because those aren’t anyone’s fault, right?”

“Well… I guess not.” Greg shrugged a little, petting Dipper’s shoulder to be reassuring before looking at him. “I’m still sorry that you panicked. I know it’s not fun and can be scary.”

“It can be, but I’ve got your brother and his great hugs. And, y’know, now I’ve got your hugs.” It was easy to smile for the kid, his apology too sincere and serious. “I still want to hear about the scavenger hunt. You win?”

“Yeah. By a landslide.” He smiled back, not quite as bright as usual, but a good start. “I had to find thirteen different things before eight o’clock and I found them all.”

“Nice.”

“So are we heading home, or...?”

“No.” Dipper looked up at his twin and they communicated silently over Greg’s head, him mostly annoyed that she’d suggest it and her just trying to be considerate. “I’ve still got some pool to win.”

“Good luck. Sara’s been kicking butt. Hasn’t she, Greg?”

“Sara always kicks everyone’s butt,” he agreed, offering his honorary, second big brother a thumbs up. “Good luck, Dipper.”

“Thanks.” He passed him to Mabel after a final squeeze, then bumped his shoulder to Wirt’s. “Gonna come watch me take her down?”

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” He bumped back. “How close can I be before I become a distraction?”

“You could be upstairs and still be a distraction.” Dipper grabbed his hand, leaving their siblings with a quick salute for Greg and guiding him through the throng gathered around the pool table.

His eyes narrowed a bit as he watched the girl put a little English on one of the few stripes left on the table. It curved into the pocket gracefully and he smiled to himself. So she’d definitely be more of a challenge than Trevor had been. “Anybody call playing winner yet?”

Sara looked up, grinning brightly at their arrival. “Not yet, but even if they had I’d have them step aside. I’ve had dibs on a game with you since you got here.”

Her game against someone from marching band was finished up quickly and she didn’t waste any time in racking up for her challenge with Dipper. Wirt helped gather the balls from the pockets, rolling them to her. While a lot of it was for show and playful banter, he knew how excited she got when she found new people to play. And he was interested in sticking as close to Dipper as possible this time, mostly to make sure he really was okay, but also a little bit so when people tried to ogle him and his skills, they wouldn’t question who he was with.

Dipper chalked his cue, wondering how he was going to play this. He wanted it to be worth it, interested to see just how well she played and maybe wanting to show off a little with his boyfriend right there.

When the balls were racked, he tipped his cap slightly in her direction. “Winner breaks. Traditional eight ball rules?”

“Sounds good to me.” Sara readied her cue and lined up her shot.

With a snap, the cue ball smacked into the fifteen balls and they scattered over the table. Solids sank into the farthest left corner and middle pockets, giving Dipper claim to stripes. Sara surveyed the table, considering her options. While not at all like Dipper with his calculations and puzzles, Wirt knew Sara had a brilliant mind and would definitely present a challenge. Maybe not on Mabel’s level, but fairly close.

Wirt stayed well out of the way until it was his boyfriend’s turn, unable to help leaning in just a bit to watch him. He didn’t miss Sara’s grin though and she nudged him knowingly as she stepped back to let Dipper have his go at the balls. While Wirt’s cheeks colored and he scuffed his shoes against the floor, his attention remained attuned to Dipper.

He twisted his cap, keeping the bill from blocking his view of the table as he considered. He could knock anywhere between one and four, depending on what he chose. And Sara was better than he’d expected her to be.

Dipper dragged his teeth along his lower lip, leaning low over the table as he lined up his shot. Two stripes fell into the far pockets. His next shot was planned carefully as he moved around the table, adjusted, and shot. Balls clicked and clattered, rolling in what seemed like an aimless pattern. When they stopped, they blocked Sara’s shots entirely. Whatever she did, he was getting the assist.

Wirt realized this the same time she did, though where her eyes narrowed his lit up. Despite knowing how good he was, he couldn’t help beaming at him, rocking on his heels. He actually bounced when Sara brushed past him for a new angle and when she glanced at him, he straightened his shoulders and met her gaze with as casual of a shrug and arch of his brow as he could manage - which wasn’t very well.

“So your boyfriend’s good at giving hickies and playing pool. Stop looking so pleased with yourself,” she told him, her turn to look pleased as his eyes widened and his lips pursed innocently. She gave Dipper the assist, but not without scrambling the set up and ruining what would’ve been Dipper’s best shots.

Since she’d fouled, sinking one of his, Dipper’s eyes scanned the table. She’d ruined his best shots, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t get her right back and show off a bit more since his boyfriend was being completely adorable. He glanced at him, smile slow and smug, and held the cue stick behind his back. He took his shot, sinking another stripe and aligning Sara’s remaining four how he wanted them.

The next shot was taken carefully, math working through his head, and when the balls had finished spinning, his remaining three were positioned close to pockets and all four of Sara’s were arched in an annoying, awkward curve with the cue ball nowhere near a good position for any of them.

He straightened and took a step back, expression nothing but wicked glee. “Your go.”

Wirt’s face burned and he was pretty sure his heart skipped right out of his chest and went somewhere else because it couldn’t handle this. He remembered him looking good playing earlier in the evening, but he didn’t remember him looking _this_ good. Wait, what was he talking about? He always looked good, of course, right. But this was different. Wirt had warned him before about getting too cocky as more of a joke than anything, but now it was cockiness that had him filled with butterflies.

How had this happened? Just moments ago he was sitting in a closet with him trying to keep him from falling apart and now he was practically strutting around the pool table, purposefully drawing out the game because he could. He was radiating confidence and so delighted with himself. Wirt had to hold onto the edge of the pool table to keep from going to him and kiss that smug smile silly. Oh, but he wanted to. He was too adorable for his own good. Adorable and hot and calculating to an almost scary degree. No, not almost. It _was_ scary. But he loved it.

“Hey, Wirt.” The voice from directly behind him shocked him from his shameless bout of admiring his boyfriend with a squeak and he jumped away from the pool table to see Trevor grinning at him. Like he knew. “How’s it going?”

“Trevor! I’m- yeah, no- I was- I was just- shut up, stop looking at me like that.” Wirt’s flushed deepened as his grin became eerily similar to that of the Cheshire cat.

“It’s alright, Wirt.” He placed his hand on his back, nodding his head sagely. “Go to him.”

About to protest just why he couldn’t, his so-called friend shoved him - _shoved_ him, like not even lightly! - in Dipper’s direction and it was by some miracle that he didn’t trip and fall flat on his face as he stumbled, arms flailing until he found purchase and balance in his boyfriend and his cue stick. “Um. Hi. Hey. Hello.” _Smooth, Wirt. How many ways can you say the same thing? Try something else._ “You’re hot.” _Wrong answer._

“Yeah?” Too pleased with himself to really question it, he only glanced over Wirt’s shoulder to see Trevor giving them a thumbs-up. Enough explanation as far as he was concerned, but he wasn’t going to let the opportunity go to waste. His fingers bunched in Wirt’s sweater and he bobbed up, letting their lips hover close just long enough to say, “You’re awfully cute,” before kissing him.

Wirt sank into it a little too eagerly, but he couldn’t resist. His hands relinquished their awkward grip to smooth over his shoulders and down his chest to cup his waist. Heart deciding to make its comeback, it fluttered helplessly in his chest as his tongue poked out to taste the cheeky curve of his lips. Okay, so maybe "you’re hot" was the right answer after all if it meant getting the chance to kiss him while he was all shiny and bright like this.

“I’ve got nothing on you,” he managed to reply, though he needed to clear his throat and simultaneously shuffled closer.

Dipper was still smug enough to grin. “Yeah, you do. But you and I aren’t competing for who looks better. Even though, as far as I’m concerned, you look really,” his teeth dragged along Wirt’s lower lip, tongue chasing the move, “really good.”

With a shiver, Wirt swayed into him for more, the combination of him being overconfident and a good kisser winning him over without question. Then somebody whistled, the spectators of the game starting up all manner of oohing and somebody else clapped and he was pretty sure someone shouted, “kiss him again!” and Wirt blinked, frozen as the staring registered. Oh boy, people were watching him basically trip all over himself and cling to the most attractive person in the room while he was in the middle of showing off. Right.

“Um, I should- sorry, you’re in the middle of- yeah. I’ll just… go back over there. Now. Yeah. You’re looking great- _doing_ great. I mean- okay.” He cut off his own babbling by taking a quick breath, puffing up his cheeks a bit before exhaling and pressing one more kiss to the corner of his stupidly smug mouth while he still had the nerve. “You don’t need it, but that’s for luck.”

“I’ll take it anyway.” Because he was nervous, Dipper lowered to the flats of his feet and pet the front of Wirt’s sweater to straighten it. “If you want to come back, though, I won’t mind. Let them see I’m yours.”

Wirt nodded, not having a problem with people seeing Dipper as his, but more as just seeing him in general. Staring never failed to make him feel all prickly. “I’ll always want to come back,” he told him, heat rising in his face when some teens around them cooed over his response. “Okay. I’m really going now. Really.” Except he wasn’t actually moving, he needed to move his feet to actually go anywhere. “If you need me I’m just right over here.”

He took several steps back, arms gesturing uselessly to where he was heading. His gaze darted over to the pool table, to make sure he didn’t clip his hip on it or something as he walked backwards, blinking when he noticed that during their kissing Sara had managed to put two of her balls in pockets and nudged one of Dipper’s away to rest snug against the side. Wirt looked over at her to see her watching Dipper with one eyebrow quirked up as she leaned on her cue stick.

“If you want to take your time and drag out the game trying to impress the easily impressed Wirt, then by all means, continue. I won’t hesitate to take advantage it,” she told him, gesturing to the table.

Dipper laughed, honestly impressed. “Nice, man, you’re not bad at this. But you’ve got a point. I have been dragging this out some.” He shrugged, studying the table as new angles presented themselves, his calculations quick. “For the record, he’s totally worth impressing.”

He leaned over the table and smacked the cue ball, sending it spinning into his sidelined ball. It hit at an angle, snapping the ball around the table, bouncing against his remaining two and knocking them into pockets. It careened into the eight ball next, shooting into the middle pocket, and then the eight ball rolled neatly into the opposing side pocket. “And that’s game.”

It was Sara’s turn to laugh, applauding him while Wirt grinned at him. While he couldn’t complain about Dipper taking his time, he had to admit his fancy flourishes couldn’t compare to him going all out. Despite the unfortunate panic attack, all things considered, Wirt was actually glad they’d agreed to come to the party. He’d go to more if it meant having Dipper to show off and dance with.

“Awesome. Thanks for playing me, man.” Sara’s smile was genuine as she offered him her fist to bump. “Hope you’re enjoying the party.”

“Dude, yeah. Anytime you want a rematch, ask. I never get to play against people who know what they’re doing.” Dipper returned the fist bump, gaze flicking to his boyfriend and back. “See ya ‘round.”

She grinned. “Yeah, definitely. Go get him to ease up some.”

“I can probably manage that.” He set the cue stick atop the table for someone Sara could actually beat to pick up, and crossed quickly to his boyfriend, reaching for his hand. “Ready for that dance?”

Wirt met him halfway, lacing their fingers together before tugging him towards the dance floor. “I’ve been ready since you took that shot behind your back. You’re kind of amazing and awful at the same time, you know that?”

“Well, now I’m disappointed in myself for only doing it once.” He wrapped his arms around Wirt’s neck, the mid-tempo beat letting him bounce some of his energy away but still stay close. “How am I amazing and awful?”

“You’re gorgeous and talented. That’s pretty much the answer for both.” Growing used to this kind of contact, he found it easier to move with Dipper this time around, though he still floundered a bit with the tempo, having no clue what the song playing was. “You’re too much for me, I can’t handle it,” he teased, holding onto his waist.

“You’re handling me just fine.” A laugh spilled out, Dipper giving him a delighted squeeze. “She was better than I thought she’d be, honestly, and I almost wish I knew what she did during her last turn.” His gaze dropped to Wirt’s lips, his own curving. “Almost.”

Licking his lips and pressing them together firmly, Wirt glanced at Dipper’s mouth, too. “Well, I really wanted to kiss you. Though we can just blame Trevor. He’s the one who pushed me. Jerk. So it’s his fault you missed whatever Sara did.”

“So what you’re saying is that Trevor should now be one of my top favorite people? Because that’s what it sounds like to me.”

“No. He’s a jerk. Don’t encourage him by approving of his tactics. I seriously thought I was going to fall on my face. Like I need any more help falling head over heels for you.”

He couldn’t respond for a moment, fingers tightening their grip. Falling head over heels - it was a generic phrase, an easy one. It didn’t mean what his racing heart wanted it to mean. “I don’t know. It did you get to kiss me, so I kind of very much approve of his tactics.”

“I don’t need to be pushed to kiss you.” Wirt tilted his head down to show him, claiming his lips for a brief moment as their dance continued. “Though it may get results faster. I’ll give him that much.”

“You’re a generous guy, Wirt.” Dipper wanted a better kiss, eager for the affections, but was content to enjoy dancing close to him for the time being.

“I like to think of myself as pretty giving, yeah,” he agreed lightly, a little distracted by Dipper.

He could see the longing in the tilt of his head and the way his gaze lingered on his lips. Wirt quirked them up just for his benefit, continuing to move with him to some semblance of the beat. Glancing around to make sure they wouldn’t bump into anyone, and then down at their feet so he could be sure that he wouldn’t step on Dipper’s accidentally, Wirt nodded to himself slightly. The next kiss he gave him was firmer and lingered, an attempt to give Dipper what he wanted.

He sighed against Wirt’s lips, heart fluttering not only from the kiss but from being understood. When the song segued into a faster one, he stopped moving his feet and stayed pressed close. He wasn’t in the mood for a quick beat. He wanted to be as close as possible to the person who cared enough to understand him.

He wanted to be as close as possible to the person who didn’t take peeks at his birthmark even when the chance presented itself. The person who didn’t question his need for his hat. Who had come to find him during a panic attack and had held him through it. Who admired him for the hard-won drive to fight back.

“You wanna go home? I think I’m ready. You still up for cuddling on the couch? ‘Cause that sounds really good right now.”

“Yes. To both. Both are pretty much exactly what I want to do.” Wirt didn’t even have to think twice about it, the answer immediate and leaving no room for arguments as he pulled back to nod, eager and relieved, linking their hands together to maintain some degree of closeness. “Come on, let’s go find our siblings.”

Grinning, Dipper squeezed his hand and let himself be led, trusting Wirt to guide his way. _I love you._ “Yeah.”

 

\----

 

His eyes were bloodshot. Bulging out of his head, strains of red creeping along the whites around his irises. Tied to a post, body shaking, Dipper couldn’t look away from them. He wasn’t even making sounds, fingers clawing at his throat, drawing blood. When it ran, Dipper felt the slickness of it running down his own throat.

“Don’t look at me,” he whispered, begging. “Please. Please, don’t. This isn’t my fault. I didn’t do this.”

He stopped clawing at his neck and started clawing at the floor instead, broken and bloodied nails digging into the tile as he inched his way forward. Dipper slammed back, stars exploding behind his eyes at the sharp pain in the back of his head. But the man kept advancing, and he couldn’t look away from those eyes. “No, no, please!”

He yanked at the bindings helplessly, uselessly, feeling the rope biting into his wrists and slowly creeping up his arms. It wound slowly around his waist, and he cried out desperately when it cinched tightly. It stole his breath away.

The man was close now, his blood plipping onto Dipper’s jeans and then his shirt as he dragged himself up. The eyes were too close, almost touching his, and Dipper watched helplessly as the life faded from them. “Stop it,” he sobbed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop it! Please- _hnk_!”

A rope wrapped around his neck, pinned tightly by a dead man’s hands. He choked on his sobs, unable to catch his breath, and staring - trapped and staring - at dead eyes.

He jerked awake to the sound of Gideon’s distorted laughter, eyes flying open. He was disoriented for a moment, unsure of where he was, eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to the darkness. With his heavy, frightened breaths was the sound of ticking clocks. He started counting them, each one a second passing, breaths and heart rate slowing as the numbers soothed.

He was okay. Everything was fine. He was with Wirt.

Dipper’s eyes squeezed shut for a moment. Why did his nightmares have to come back? Why did he keep having to see the man he’d never said actual words to? Like he’d said in the dream, it hadn’t been his fault. It had been Gideon.

But, then, couldn’t he have prevented everything from happening if he’d just gone the day before to confront the felons?

The sob that welled up at that was pushed back, swallowed down. No. No, it wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t think like that. Gideon had pulled the trigger. It was Gideon’s fault.

But those eyes...

He flinched, and began to ease out of bed. He was as careful and silent as he was in the mornings when Wirt was still fast asleep and his energy drummed him up. It was panicked energy now, but it was all essentially the same. Fingers trembling, he reached for his hat to quickly cover his forehead. The birthmark hadn’t even featured in the dream, but he still needed the security.

_Pathetic, Pines. You’re pathetic._

Silent footfalls carried him to his suitcase. His journal, his personal, private one, was removed from a hidden lining, his vest from the closet, and then a pair of jeans were nabbed out of the drawer Wirt had cleared for him. He waited until he was out of the room, door closing with a whisper behind him, before hiking them up over his boxers.

His mind stayed tuned to what he was doing, each action carefully lined out. Meaningless details, even down to inhale-exhale, kept his mind as far away from the nightmare as possible.

He peeked into the room across the hall, the door never fully closed, and could just make out his sister’s wild tangle of hair on the pillow and the little bundle that was Greg tucked safe beside her. Bathed in the glow of his heat lamp, Jason Funderburker croaked with sleepy curiosity. Part of him really, really wanted to study that very strange frog, but he only shushed him softly before easing back. Down the hall, away from their rooms, Dipper pushed a button on his watch to illuminate the numbers. Just after two.

He sighed, tucking his journal in the pocket of the vest. Two o’clock meant he had a lot of hours to kill before the rest of the house stirred. There wasn’t enough room in the house to prowl, his fear spreading into the darkened corners of the home, and he didn’t want to switch on the lights and risk disturbing anyone. At the Shack, he could flip on every single light in his room and go to his computers and lose himself there for hours. He couldn’t do that here, not without attracting attention and questions and curious looks. Stares. _Don’t look at me_.

Feeling trapped, Dipper went by the door where Amy and sometimes Jonathan, when he remembered, hung their keys. He took a set, quickly figuring out which was the house key. He couldn’t stay there, not just then, so walked out the front door, using a borrowed set of keys to lock up behind him.

Immediately, he felt better. Not trapped, not held down. No walls caging him in, no ropes holding him in place. He trotted down the porch steps and went on a solo exploration of Lakeville, city of lakes.

There were frogs in the deserted streets, hopping along in groups of two and three, their croaks and ribbits breaking the silence and eventually making his lips curve. He needed to get back to that for Greg, finding him a giant frog to ooh and awe at. But not tonight, not while the dregs of the dream still weighed him down.

He peeked at a cemetery as he went by, stood at the entrance with his hands on his hips. The Gravity Falls cemetery was a usual hangout for most of the teens, so he was very used to the feel of them and wasn’t normally wary of entering one. Like at Salem, though, energy was there. It crackled over his skin. Haunted, maybe, or something deeper. Also something to explore when he was feeling better.

He found a bus bench illuminated by a streetlamp a few more blocks away, so sank onto it and opened his journal. The nightmare was recorded, his own way of purging it from his system, and then the page was returned so he could write about the party instead. He wrote it like a story, smiling more than once as he described the way Wirt danced, the way he kissed, the way he smiled.

The way he made him feel safe.

He sighed to himself, closing the journal and tucking it away again. A glance at his watch showed him four o’clock. Two hours gone, two hours spent away from the sleepy little house. Despite the nightmare and the trapped feeling that had pushed him out of the house to begin with, he did feel safe there. Amy and Jonathan were both warm enough, patient and kind enough, to make it seem like home.

All four of them did, really, and it wasn’t fair to let a nightmare chase him out. He rose from the bench and stretched, ignoring the tiredness spiralling through him. He didn’t need to sleep. He could cuddle with Wirt while he slept or he could grab a book and read on the couch. Or even edit some of the recordings he’d made with Mabel. He’d been neglecting his channel.

Yeah. Videos. Good plan.

Smothering a yawn, Dipper made his way back to the little house. The keys were hung back up, his shoes toed off and left by the front hall closet, and he slipped back into Wirt’s room to get the laptop and his external hard drive with the files waiting on it.

His boyfriend was still sleeping peacefully, fingers curled in a loose fist atop the pillow Dipper had left behind. Part of him wanted to reclaim the spot and gather Wirt close and tell him everything. But a stronger part decided waking him wasn’t worth it, bothering him was pointless. His nightmare didn’t matter two hours later, and he could just tell him in the morning.

When morning came, though, and the house awakened around Dipper, he kept quiet. No need to worry him when the nightmares would likely stay away. Just one borne of a brief panic attack. Everything would be just fine the next night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the angst continues.........


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I (skimming) will be out pretty much all day tomorrow (from 6am to probably 8pm PST) we're updating this chapter a little earlier for you all so you don't have to wait for me to get home. Technically it's Friday everywhere but where I am, so it's close enough for us. 
> 
> Hope you all have had a good week and go on to have a good weekend!

Everything was not fine the next night. Or the night after that, for that matter.

It was on the third night that Wirt woke up during one of Dipper’s excursions. Waking up in the middle of the night wasn’t too out of the ordinary for him, it was a normal enough occurrence when he felt uneasy. Though for the past week he’d slept soundly enough, content and at peace with falling asleep next to the boy he was proud and astounded to call his. But he wasn’t content now. Something wasn’t right.

Wirt blinked sleepily, nose almost brushing the wall as he laid there, curled up close to it. Brow furrowing, he yawned and closed his eyes, pushing away from it to roll over and snuggle up to Dipper’s side or back or front. But he wasn’t there.

Waking up without Dipper there also wasn’t something out of the ordinary since he was a busy guy and Wirt liked sleeping, so he didn’t panic immediately, still out of it enough not to. He opened his eyes and squinted at the empty space as if it had done him a personal disservice. Sliding across the bed - the space where Dipper had been was cold, he’d been gone for a while - Wirt felt for his cell phone to check the time, the faces of the clocks on the wall too dark for him to see with bleary eyes. It was almost four.

He set it down and sighed, head falling to Dipper’s pillow and he groaned into it, grogginess fading as he breathed in the familiar smell of him that he’d grown so accustomed to through their bouts of cuddling. He wanted the real thing though. As sleepy as he was, Wirt was also stubborn enough to stave it off in favor of what he wanted. He sat up, rubbing his eyes as he slid off the bed. Hiking up his baggy pajama bottoms and tugging on the hem of Dipper’s t-shirt, he picked his way across the room in the dark.

His boyfriend was probably reading or researching something in the living room in an attempt not to disturb him. When he found him there the other morning he’d told him that he was okay with him turning on a light or opening the laptop in bed, it wouldn’t bother him, but Dipper was a considerate guy, not to mention a fidgety guy when he got restless, so he could understand him wanting to go elsewhere to keep from accidentally disturbing Wirt.

“Dipper,” he called out softly before he crept into the living room, not wanting to catch him by surprise. “If you don’t want to come back to bed, that’s fine, but you’ll have to make space on the couch ‘cause I’m using you as a pillow either way-”

The couch was empty. So was the armchair and the accent chair tucked in the corner by the fireplace. Wirt blinked, frown slow in forming. Where was he?

The click of the front door caught his attention belatedly, a few seconds passing before he turned his head to find his boyfriend in the foyer, hanging up a set of keys to the house. Why had he needed keys to the house? Why was he dressed? What was he doing? Where had he gone? Why had he gone?

Asking the questions in his sleep-addled brain wasn’t getting him any answers, so while Dipper was stepping out of his shoes he made his presence known. “Why are you dressed?” was the first intelligent question he asked. “It’s four in the morning.”

He bristled at the unexpected voice, startled gaze snapping to his sleepy boyfriend. What was he doing up?

“I... uh. I just wanted... fresh air. I guess. Used to more of it.” It wasn't a total lie, but was far from the total truth. That lodged itself in his throat and refused to be cleared away.

“Oh. M’kay.” Wirt still stared at him, puzzled and more aware of the discontent and not right feeling in his gut that had woken him to begin with, but accepted the explanation for the time being. “Feeling better?”

Some. But now guilt curled in his gut. The journal with that night's horror show sat heavy against his chest. “Yeah. What are you doing up?”

Wirt shrugged, digging the heel of his palm against his eye as he yawned again. “Dunno. Didn’t feel right. Happens a lot. I wake up when I don’t feel… right…” His brow furrowed, expression mildly disgruntled at his lack of eloquence. “I got up to find you.”

The guilt churned nastily. He finally went to him, taking his hand. “Come on. Let's go back to bed.”

“You sure? If you want to be on the couch, that’s fine. I can sleep on the couch.” He waved at it with his free hand. “If you’re… too awake or want to write in your journal or something.”

Dipper didn’t fight the yawn that welled up, but he did cover it with the back of his hand. The sleepless nights were wearing on him whether he wanted to admit it or not and maybe he could try to get a little bit more sleep. The walls didn’t seem so imposing after his walk, and Wirt’s tired self was appealing and adorable. “No, come on. Let’s get some sleep, man.” He gave his hand a squeeze, released it to wrap an arm around his waist instead and guide the way down the hall.

“Mm. Good, okay. You need it. You’ve been tired. Getting bags under your eyes and… and just being tired. Is everything okay?” he asked as they entered his room, looking at him as seriously and concerned as possible while still being groggy. “You can tell me if something’s bothering you.”

“I know. I’m- I’m fine.” Dipper shook his head, the lie tripping him up. “Lay down. I’ll be there in a sec,” he promised, releasing his boyfriend to shrug off his vest and hang it up. The journal in his pocket should stay safe there for what remained of the night.

Wirt slid back under the covers, watching Dipper with half-lidded eyes as lying down had them threatening to close. He waited though. His boyfriend sounded off, not quite right, and his movements about the room led him to believe that was the case as well. His brain struggled to piece it together, brow creasing as possible scenarios, reasons, anything tried to take root. Because now that he was thinking about it, he had been acting odd the past few days.

The not quite right feeling surged. “You would… you would tell me if something was wrong, right?”

He wanted to say yes. Of course, yes. But that was a lie he couldn’t get out because he certainly wasn’t telling him now, was he? He dropped his jeans back into the drawer they’d come from to wear the next day - well, later that day. He sought something that was true to say, the silence stretching as he made his way to bed, hat secured to the bedpost before he slipped between the sheets. He pulled him close, resting their brows together. “Sorry. I’m just tired.”

“Oh… that’s okay. Yeah, of course. Let’s just go back to sleep.” Wirt wrapped his arms around him in return, trying not to let the lack of an answer hurt. It was late, they were tired. Now was a time for sleep, not for badgering him with questions. “Goodnight, Dipper. Again.”

He wanted to sleep, needed to. Dipper scooted up enough to hide his face in Wirt’s hair instead. His heart begged to tell him, to trust him. But the insecurities in his mind swelled and overtook it.

_You let someone die. You watched someone die. He died, and you sat there. What will he think of you when he knows then?_

He squeezed his eyes shut, stroking Wirt’s back as though he was the one who needed soothing. “Goodnight,” he murmured and hoped he could spend the rest of it in peace.

Two hours later, like clockwork, he was rolling out of bed. It was too late in the morning to walk, but his journal was taken to the kitchen table so a second nightmare could be written that night. This one had Wirt, standing beside him.

_“Why aren’t you helping him? Get up. You can get out. Just go help him.”_

Tears smeared the ink on the page as he wrote, shaking hands getting out every detail until the sun peeked through the kitchen windows and he darted to the bathroom for a rare early morning shower to scrub away the dark circles and red rims surrounding his eyes.

 

\----

 

Lips pursed and cheeks puffed out, Wirt poked his head into the living room. Everyone was in there, Mabel and Greg playing three board games on the floor at the same time while Dipper had the television on for an episode of Ghost Harassers, half-paying attention to it and half-focused on his laptop. At least as much as he could be. His eyes were a little bleary, like he hadn’t slept well. Which he hadn’t, Wirt knew, because he was up going for walks at four in the morning. Something was on his mind.

For the past three days he’d looked as if he wanted to talk about whatever it was, but for some reason couldn’t get the words out. That was okay. If he needed process whatever was on his mind, sort it through, puzzle it out, then that was totally okay. It’s what he did in Gravity Falls for mysteries, after all. Maybe this was how he dealt with other things, too.

Still, Wirt wanted to do something to help. To take care of him, show that he was there for him, if he needed it. If he needed a sounding board because he liked the way his mind worked or whatever. Bouncing on his heels nervously, though why he was nervous when getting ready to talk to his boyfriend was beyond him, Wirt started to head over to him.

“Hey,” he greeted, offering him a smile as he leaned his arms on the back of the couch. “So, I was thinking I’d make us some lunch. There anything you want in particular? Or we could order something. What goes well with Ghost Harassers?”

Dipper tipped his head back, blinking twice to focus on him. The smile relieved him, made it easy to let his lips curve in return. “Popcorn and soda,” he joked.

Wirt’s grin brightened. “It might be tough, but I think I can manage that,” he replied easily, going along with it. “If that’s really all you want.”

“You should see him at the end of season marathons. He sprawls out on Grunkle Stan’s chair with all these snacks and sodas and no one’s allowed to touch any of it.”

“And yet you constantly eat my food.”

Mabel tossed a grin his way. “You should thank me for saving you from yourself.”

“All hail bratticus sisterus.”

“Can we have snacks and sodas for lunch?” Greg asked, toying with the spinner from one game and a pair of dice from the other. “I want popcorn.”

Wirt pushed away from the couch, heading around it so he could crouch down beside his brother on the floor. “You want popcorn for lunch, too?” He sat cross-legged so he could pull Greg into his lap, inspiring delighted giggles when he tipped him sideways. “Well, Dipper has final say today because the captain says so, so if it’s popcorn and soda he wants, then that’s what we’re having.”

“Please, Dipper!” Greg laughed when Wirt squeezed him, tilting his head to look at him. “Please can we have snacks for lunch?”

His laugh was interrupted by a yawn. “Screw it. It’s summer, so why not? Snacks for lunch.”

Wirt rolled Greg into a somersault, then left him sprawled on the floor giggling. He got up to return to the couch, leaning down to kiss Dipper’s cheek. “Want anything else besides the popcorn and soda?”

He grinned. “You on the menu at all?”

A flush darkened his cheeks. “If you want me to be, I think I can arrange that,” he managed to keep up the game as his smile turned sweet before his lips pressed to Dipper’s. “Pitt cola your soda of choice?”

“Yeah, man. Want any help?”

“Don’t let him do it, Wirt!” Mabel pursed her lips, swapping the gamepiece of one game for the piece of another game simply because she felt like it. “Your kitchen’ll never be the same.”

“I’d keep him for moral support. And maybe some heavy lifting.” Wirt glanced over at her as he straightened, then squeezed Dipper’s shoulder. “I’ve got it. You enjoy people harassing ghosts. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Okay.” He smiled. “You need me, just yell.”

“Will do, admiral.” Wirt offered him a salute, then abandoned them for the kitchen.

Greg made his game piece hop over Mabel’s. “Bring the cheese puffs, too!” he called after his brother while he finished his turn, then passed the spinner to Mabel. When he heard the pantry close, he glanced up and over at Dipper, then back at his honorary big sister. “I think this is a good place to pause for our lunch break.”

“Agreed. I am ready for snacks!” Laughing, Mabel rolled onto her back but made no further move to get up. She glanced at her brother, too, watching his easy smile fade as his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed on the screen. He lifted a hand to rub tiredly at one, and her heart twisted in her chest. No, no, no. He was supposed to be better here. He’d been so much better here so far. “Hey, Dipper?”

“Hm?”

“What’s two times eight?”

“Sure, Mabel,” he replied and muttered something incoherent when he clicked wrong.

Not listening. His ability to multitask was slipping. She rolled to her feet and went closer to peer at his laptop. She waved a hand in front of his face, smiling brightly when he glared at her. “What’re you doing?”

“Video.”

“What’s wrong with the video?”

“I keep misclicking where I need to crop. It’s fine. It’s being stupid.” He rubbed both eyes, anger slipping into self-pity. “I’m stupid. I’m bad at this.”

Mood swings. Where was this coming from? Why hadn’t he been sleeping again? Mabel laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing to soothe. “You are not, bro-bro! You want some help?”

“No, I’m fine.” He brushed her off, his next click leaving him pleased with himself.

Mabel took a step away from him, stopping herself from wringing her hands together by placing them on her hips. How long had he been having the nightmares again? “How much sleep did you get last night?”

He didn’t look up, but she could see his fingers tense over the keyboard of his laptop. “Enough.”

“Dipper...”

Greg glanced between the twins, cheeks puffed out. Something wasn’t right. Dipper was unusually grumpy today. Even Wirt was walking around him like he was a time bomb set to go off at any second and being all extra sweet and stuff in that way he was when he was trying to get something he wanted. Not to mention Mabel looked worried about him, too. A quick look at Jason Funderburker and a quiet croak of encouragement had Greg on his feet, squeezing onto the couch beside Dipper and pillowing his cheek on his shoulder.

“You should take your lunch break with us!” He grinned brightly at him. “I bet once you have some food, you’ll be able to get crops from your video a lot faster. Then you’ll be selling them at the market like a pro in no time!”

“It’s not that kind of crop, Greg.” The frown deepened, but he struggled against it. Mabel knew his tells, and Wirt knew he’d been up and about at four in the morning. He wasn’t too tired to function. He was fine. They didn’t have enough time together for this. “I mean, yeah. I’ll eat with you, sure.”

“Are you mad?” Greg sat up and poked where his mouth creased. “Wirt’s face does that when he gets mad. It’s good you’re taking a break to eat with us. You should always take a break if you get mad at something. That’s what Mom and Dad say. ‘It’s no use getting all bent out of shape,’” he recited for him, canting his head to the side after a moment. “Huh. I wonder what kind of shape you are. I want to be a triangle. Triangles are like upside-down ice cream cones. And Wirt’s hat.”

Dipper stiffened, the forced ease vanishing in an instant. “You’re _not_ a triangle.”

“Dipper-”

He shut his laptop, shoving it aside before pushing up off the couch. “I’m gonna go see if Wirt needs help,” he muttered, jamming his fists into his pockets and quickly striding away.

Mabel sighed quietly, ruffling Greg’s hair. “Don’t worry about him, baby. He must’ve stayed up too late last night. Besides, you’re more of a circle anyway. Like the bottom of Wirt’s hat or the top of an ice cream cone. Or your cheeks!” She poked them, giggling, to make sure he stayed in a good mood.

That did get a smile out of him, though his gaze followed where Dipper had gone. As sudden as his snap had been, Greg was used to the mood swings of his own brother. Used to being brushed aside or snapped at, though it had been a while. Still, if Dipper was tired and cranky, then that would explain things. Maybe he could take a nap later. Wirt always felt better after taking cat naps whenever he was cranky, so maybe Dipper would, too.

Greg looked back to Mabel and poked her cheeks back. “Yeah! I like circles,” he conceded, then gasped with a realization. “Oh, wait! I want to be a rhombus!”

In the kitchen, Wirt was making himself some toast, not quite feeling up to getting through the day solely on junk food. While waiting for the toaster to pop, he poured the bag of popcorn into two bowls, the best course of action when sharing snacks with Greg. This way, he and Dipper would have their own bowl to eat from. He glanced up when Dipper strode in, a smile and a quip on the tip of his tongue that faded as he took in the tension in his shoulders and the unfamiliar frown on his face. Not that Dipper didn’t frown, but this was different.

“Hey, everything okay?” Wirt set the empty bag of popcorn down, turning to face him.

His shoulders jerked in a messy shrug. “I’m fine.”

He obviously wasn’t, but Wirt was hesitant to push. If Dipper wanted to tell him what was up, then he would in his own time. That didn’t mean he wasn’t concerned still. Wringing his hands together, he jumped when the toaster popped, then forced a laugh at his own skittishness.

“It’s just- yeah, the toast, it’s- that’s what happens when it’s done,” he babbled lamely. “You want some? Popcorn’s done, too, if you want to help yourself, but you can obviously see that, not sure why I’m explaining that to you.”

Annoyance rolled through him, and Dipper quickly dropped his face into his hands to scrub. Wirt’s rambling wasn’t annoying. It was charming and sweet. He wasn’t annoyed with Wirt, but with Greg and- wait. Wait, that wasn’t any better. He wasn’t annoyed with Greg. What did he know about the negative association he had with triangles?

The annoyance turned inward and he let his hands fall. “Um. Sure. Yeah, I’ll take a couple pieces.” He crossed to the fridge, jerking it open to grab the jam. He grabbed a can of pitt cola while he was at it, pressing the cold aluminum to his brow.

Wirt couldn’t help flinching as condiments and bottles rattled on the racks on the inside of the fridge door. Pursing his lips and kicking himself mentally, he placed the two slices of toast on a plate and added another two to the toaster. He went to hand Dipper the plate, but paused as he took in the irritation. Though froze would be a more adequate description.

His mom would ramble and have mild bouts of internal freak outs when she was out of sorts, while his step-dad never seemed to lose his cool and if he was upset he’d either retreat to the office to play an instrument, go out to the garden and do yard work, or something else constructive to take his mind off of things. Greg never got mad at anyone and tended to bury his feelings under games and missions. Wirt was really the only one in their family prone to dramatic displays of huffy teen moodiness.

He hadn’t had to deal with someone else’s irritation in the house since… “I’m sorry.” Wirt pinched his brow. “Are you even hungry? I didn’t even ask, did I? If I’m bothering you, just let me know, okay? I’ll back off or give you space or whatever you need. We have been in close quarters lately and there’s not much here to occupy your mind the way there was in Gravity Falls, so if you need to be… I don’t know… by yourself, don’t hesitate to just be like, ‘hey, Wirt, get out of my face for a few hours,’ because I totally get it. I’ll take Mabel and Greg somewhere so they’re out of your hair, too, you know? Um… yeah… oh. Here.”

Still holding the plate of toast, he quickly set it down on the counter close to Dipper. His hand automatically went to the back of his neck to knead, to offer some comfort, before he realized he was contradicting everything he’d just said. It fell away quickly and Wirt took a step back, rubbing his own neck.

Dipper wanted them all to go far away. He wanted them all as close as possible. He struggled with himself, the can falling to his side. “You’re fine, man. Just didn’t get enough sleep last night, I guess.” Or the night before that, or before that, or... “I’m just in a weird mood. It’s not your fault.”

Wirt bounced on his heels nervously. “Does… does it have anything to do with why you went for a walk in the middle of the night?” he asked, then almost immediately waved his arms across his chest as if to negate it. “Never mind, you don’t have to say. Just… let me know if there’s anything I can do for you, okay?”

He could tell him. He could tell him now that it had been nightmares that had chased him out. Nightmares were keeping him up at night. Dipper could’ve reached out right then, leaned on him, found comfort in him. It wasn’t fair for him to be in a bad mood when they had such little time. His shoulders started to drop, lips parting, and their siblings invaded the kitchen.

Dipper briefly pressed his lips together. “I was just restless. I’m fine.”

Wirt’s heart thumped hard, doubt and worry congealing within him, but he offered him as much of a smile as he could manage nonetheless. “If you say so. But if you need to talk, I’m here for you.” Wirt laid a hand on his arm, squeezing gently, then nudged the plate to him as the toaster popped once more.

Whatever Dipper had to say, he’d tell him when he was ready. If Dipper said he was fine, then he was fine. Besides, if something was really wrong, then he would’ve said something by now. Yeah.

 

\----

 

Mabel had had enough. She recognized the steady descent into sleepless nights, but had hoped - had believed - that those were over. Her brother could rub his eyes to diminish the bags beneath them and disguise his yawns as particularly deep breaths all he wanted, but she knew the signs well. Especially when she caught him chewing on his shirt collar.

She grabbed the fabric, giving it a sharp tug as he tried to pass her in the hall. He jerked back, and their faces settled into identical scowls. “What, Mabel?”

Her fists went to her hips. “What do you think, Dipper?”

The shame that came and went in his eyes scared her. He didn’t have anything to be ashamed about, hadn’t had anything to be ashamed about back in Gravity Falls when she’d first noticed that sneaking in amongst the tired grouchiness of him. He’d been kidnapped and tortured, and she knew that would bruise her brother’s ego some, but he’d also made the choice to be taken in order to save Greg. That was just Dipper.

So why, she wondered, was there shame? What was he not saying?

“Just leave me alone. I’m fine.”

“You are _not_!” He flinched when she jabbed a finger into his chest, so she did it again. “I thought this was done. You were sleeping just fine. What happened?”

“I am sleeping fine.”

“You’re a liar!”

He cringed, tugging his hat down. She reached out to tug it back up and he slammed himself back so fast he tripped over his own feet and ended up crashing to the floor. Stark white terror crossed his face when he looked up at her, and she curled her hand into a tight fist, nails biting into her palm. That was new. She knew about the birthmark just as much as Wirt did, and had seen it a hundred times more. So it was new and painful to see him so much more frightened of it than before. At least that had a logical base behind it. She knew all the sources behind the fear in his tired eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, Dipper. I wasn’t thinking.”

He pulled himself to his feet, using the wall for support, and tugged his hat back down as he pulled himself together. “Whatever. Will you just leave me alone?”

“No.”

“Mabel-”

“I love you, bro-bro. I’m not walking away or leaving you alone when you hurt. I thought you were done with this. I thought you’d talked to Wirt, and that’s why the nightmares went away. I didn’t think-”

A hand lifted quickly, cutting her off. “I’m not having nightmares.”

“Dipper, if you’re this sleep deprived and not working on saving the world, you’re having nightmares.”

There was a long beat of silence, stretching heavily between them. Mabel waited, really trying to be patient with him, but she had a limit and he broke it when he tried to sidestep her. “Stop it! Why won’t you talk to me? Why won’t you talk to Wirt?” She raked her hands through her hair, dislodging the scarf, and then had to push at her hair impatiently. “Maybe you should go back to ther-”

“Shut up. Shut, up, shut up, shut _up_. Don’t you _ever_ suggest that.” Panicked, he moved away from her again. “Shut up, Mabel. Just leave me alone. I’m fine. Everything’s _fine_. Just shut up, stop it.”

“I’m _sorry_ , but you’re being awful! You’re making everything uncomfortable. You have to talk to someone about your nightmares and what happened to you in the freaking basement with Lil’ Gideon!”

“No! Nothing- He didn’t- Shut up.” He kept backing away from her.

She stopped advancing, lips quivering and heart aching. “Dipper, you know you’ll feel better.”

He looked up, as if he was considering it, but the shame shifted his features and had him bowing his head again. Something was mumbled, so she moved forward and laid her hand on his arm. “What?”

“I’m a... I just...”

“Dipper, just say it,” she pressed. “You know Wirt’s going to notice something’s wrong soon. What are you going to do when he asks you? Are you going to yell at him and tell him to shut up, too?”

He flinched hard, so she rubbed his arm soothingly. “It’s okay, Dipdop. If you don’t want to tell me, fine. But tell him at least. You love him.”

Guilt was a hard punch to the gut. “You know I love you too, Mabel. It’s not about that. It’s not about- It’s got nothing to do with you guys. I just have to- I have to get it through my head, and it’s not going through. It’s not staying away.”

“You need a sounding board. You always do.”

He pressed his lips together, shaking his head. “Not this time.”

“Dipper-”

“No, Mabel. Just no. It’s not happening. It’s never happening. I’m not-” He blew out a shaky breath, cutting himself off as he realized what he was saying. He had told himself again and again that he would talk to Wirt when the time was right, when they were both awake, when they weren’t busy. But the excuses were pitiful at best, Dipper able to find even the smallest of reasons to avoid telling him.

He never wanted to tell him.

Wirt would hate him. He would never trust him again. Dipper clutched at his heart, fingers curling into his shirt. He’d let a man die. How could Wirt trust him after that? He couldn’t even trust himself.

“Dipper, you’re panicking. You haven’t had panic attacks since elementary school. Shh.” Her grip on his arm tightened, and she tugged carefully to get his attention. What had Gideon done to him that he wouldn’t say?

Tears pricked her eyes, the question staying buried. She couldn’t go back to elementary school. She couldn’t go back to seeing her twin panic and collapse in the middle of class or recess or lunch or that time in gym that had ended up with their parents finally taking him to therapy.

She couldn’t do it again, so shoved away her worry and hugged him as tight as she could. “You don’t have to talk about it. I’ll shut up. It’s done. It’s okay.”

“Mabel-”

“No, shh. What are the frogs doing? Greg hasn’t forgotten about the frog hunt his honorary brother promised him, you know.”

The change of direction got his mind going. It spun away from the nightmares and self-loathing, latching onto the mystery. “I’ve been... I’ve been following them. Kind of. Getting an idea of where they’ve been most nights. I think there’s a pattern, maybe. I’m still working on that.”

“Okay. So once you have the pattern, you’ll know where the giant frog is?”

Drawing back to nod at her, Dipper flashed a very small, grateful smile. “I should. I think so. I can’t let Greg down.”

She closed her eyes when she laughed, hiding the frustration. “Good to know.” She flicked the faded pine tree emblem on his hat. “So Jonathan put up a target on a tree out back. Greg mentioned that you pitch and I said you haven’t really had a chance to practice, so...”

“Thanks, Mabel.” He wrapped his arms around her, holding too tight and too long. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

So was she, but she only gave his back a pat. One day she’d be able to scale his mountain of insecurities.

 

\----

 

It only took another day before Wirt reached his breaking point.

Needed fresh air. Everything was fine. Stop worrying.

_Leave me alone, Wirt._

While it hadn’t been said in so many words, it was pretty much what Dipper was asking of him.

Curled up in bed, glaring at the wall, Wirt had to fight to keep his breathing even, pretending to sleep as he listened for any changes in Dipper’s. He was asleep, finally, after a lot of tossing and turning and little pillow talk. Both were trying to ignore the tension steadily rising between the two of them, but ignoring it didn’t change the fact that it was there. Hovering in all the spaces where they didn’t touch, the words unspoken, the gazes not met, there was a heaviness. Doubt on both parties.

Dipper was lying. The worst part was Dipper knew that Wirt knew he was lying and lied anyway. He curled up tighter, knees bumping the wall in his attempt to keep from touching his boyfriend out of sheer stubbornness. So Dipper apparently couldn’t trust Wirt with whatever was weighing on his mind and now Wirt couldn’t trust anything that came out of Dipper’s mouth. That’s what it boiled down to again. Trust. Or wanting to trust.

Dipper said he wanted to trust him, but he didn’t seem to be doing a good job of showing it.

Wirt picked at his pillow case. That wasn’t very fair of him, he knew he was trying. But he just didn’t understand with this. He knew it had to do with their last day in Gravity Falls - how could it not? - and he’d been there, for part of it anyway. Sure, he hadn’t been there when he’d been tortured, but he’d been there in the aftermath, had patched him up. Knew each injury intimately. When he closed his eyes sometimes he could see them and feel Dipper’s blood slick on his fingers. He could see the carved up birthmark and his heart was wrenched and filled to the brim with hurt on behalf of the boy he was only just getting to know, but knew enough that more than a physical scar had been left behind.

He knew all these things, and Dipper knew he knew.

So why not tell him? What was there that he didn’t want to share with him? Did he think he couldn’t handle reliving it? Please, he hadn’t been the one hurt and he was tougher than that.

Maybe he didn’t think he was worth telling.

Wirt bristled, fingers curling into a fist in his pillow. He wouldn’t blame him if he thought that, but it would be nice to know where they stood. _You want to cuddle and kiss and get frustrated at me for being insecure and flustered by Jason Funderberker, but you don’t want to open up to me and tell me what you’re insecure about, what you fear. You don’t want to talk to me. Good to know._

Ugh. He was being unfair again.

Wirt softened, smoothing out the wrinkles in his pillow. Dipper didn’t mean anything by this, certainly not anything malicious. He didn’t want Wirt to feel bad.

But he did feel bad. He felt awful that something was hurting Dipper and he couldn’t do anything about it. For the past four days he’d tried. He tried giving him space. He tried treating him to movies he liked, making him food he liked, suggesting they go on another date, taking him to the arcade, cuddling him, writing him poems that he actually let him read, staying away, staying close. Nothing was working. He was a failure of a boyfriend.

This wasn’t on Dipper, it was on him. He was mad at himself. Wirt rolled over, heart aching and sorry that he’d let Dipper fall asleep to his back facing him. His face was peaceful at least, smoothed out in sleep, head tilted in his direction as he’d rolled onto his back at some point. Wirt’s gaze traced the planes of his face in the dark, his dark eyebrows and button nose and chapped lips parted just so as he breathed, in quiet awe of the beautiful boy sharing his bed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m trying. I really am. But I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help you.” He blinked rapidly to stem the dampness growing in the corners of his eyes, tired and frustrated and so inadequate.

Wirt wanted to reach out and gather him in his arms, hold him against his chest so he’d feel safe. Dipper deserved to feel as safe with him as Wirt did with him. Even if he wasn’t the most reliable guy. But he kept his arms tucked in close, watching Dipper sleep with a few, painful inches separating them still.

As the minutes passed, the hour late, Wirt felt a flicker of hope that maybe whatever had been bothering him had passed as well. Maybe it was over. Maybe Dipper would sleep the whole night and maybe he wouldn’t be so distant in the morning. Maybe his smiles wouldn’t be lined with lies and his eyes wouldn’t mask the clear distress and hollow ache that dwelled behind their light like a mirror.

Just as he began to relax - refusing to sleep still to keep watch just in case - Dipper’s lips closed and twitched into a frown and his brow creased. Wirt’s heart leapt into his throat. Dipper twisted hard in the sheets, his head jerking away from him as a sob broke free.

Wirt laid his hand over Dipper’s. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. Dipper, it’s just a dream,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb along the back of his hand.

Dipper moaned lowly, quiet and in the back of his throat. He mouthed the word “no,” but aside from whimpers and frantic breathing, he remained silent, as if even in sleep he was trying to keep everything internalized. Wirt sat up, ready to gather him in his arms now. He might not know what was going on with his boyfriend, but he knew how he himself liked to be comforted from nightmares. He could do that much at least.

Dipper pushed him away.

Arms batted at, chest shoved back. Dipper pushed him away. Dipper didn’t want him.

No, no, that wasn’t true. He was sleeping, dreaming, trying to get away from whatever demons lurked in his head. He didn’t mean it. He didn’t mean it. Wirt still recoiled, drawing back into himself, watching helplessly as Dipper struggled through the nightmare alone. He gasped, another silent sob shaking him and Wirt squeezed his eyes shut against it and rolled away from him, too. He didn’t know what to do. How was he supposed to help him if Dipper didn’t want his help?

What did that say about him that his boyfriend didn’t want his help?

He knew when Dipper woke up. The bed shook with the force of his waking, his breaths harsh and fast while he trembled. Wirt swallowed, eyes closed as he debated what to do. Awake and aware, would he be more receptive to him? Would he let him soothe him?

As Dipper attempted to calm himself, Wirt felt his eyes on him and hope rekindled in his heart. _Wake me up. Please. Wake me up, Dipper._

The bed dipped slightly as he sat up. Dipper still watched his back, the stare creeping along his neck. Minutes passed in silent contemplation on both parties. He wanted him, didn’t he? Was that why he was watching him? Did he know he was awake? Was he waiting for him to act?

Wirt didn’t know. He was tired of not knowing.

Just as he made the decision to roll over and face him, the bed dipped again. Dipper got up. Wirt didn’t move as he listened to the slide of the dresser drawer, the pull of a zipper, the rustling of denim and his vest. Dread pooled in his belly, thick and hardening like a stone, and he fought hard not to let his breathing shift and betray his wakefulness despite how much he wanted to ask him to stay. _No. No, don’t go. Come to me. Lean on me. Trust me._

When the door clicked shut behind Dipper, Wirt let the tears fall. He left him. Inhaling harshly, he shook the bed with his own quiet sobs. He left him. What was he doing wrong? His breath hitched, chest tight and aching as he hunched up into a small ball. _You’re not worth trusting_.

The room felt confining, the ticking of the clocks echoing in the too-empty room, cold and judgmental in Dipper’s absence. Wirt threw off the covers and got up. He tugged on socks and the first pair of shoes he could find in the dark. He didn’t care if they matched, that was irrelevant. Fumbling in the closet, he had no one to be quiet for, he pulled out his World War I nurse’s cape and his red cone hat. Draping the fabric over his shoulders and fastening the top button, he left his room.

Wirt silently slipped down the hall, donning his hat as he grabbed the second set of keys, taking only the one for the house from the ring, leaving the rest on the hook. He tucked it into his shoe after he locked the front door behind him. Taking a deep breath, he turned and started down the porch.

Dipper wasn’t the only one who found solace in walks and this was his hometown. He could do what he wanted.

Glancing one way and then the other, Wirt couldn’t tell which direction his boyfriend had chosen to go. Going with his gut, he started away from the school, towards downtown and the cemetery. Part of him was looking for Dipper, it was true, but part of him also wanted to be alone in the night. It was empty and quiet except for the croaking of frogs and humming of streetlamps.

Betrayal thrummed in his heart, irrational and unwanted, but there just the same. As Wirt walked, it only twisted deeper into his gut, like a knife. He hurried through the night, a pilgrim in pajamas, longing to find and longing to stay lost at the same time.

The latter reigned.

When Wirt found himself at the cemetery gates, he didn’t hesitate to step beyond its threshold. Cemeteries didn’t scare him. Not when he knew what it was like to actually walk amongst the dead. While he caught glimpse of the wall just beyond the graves, he had a different destination first. The grave that bore the name _Beatrice_ nestled among several others with the same last name offered him mild comfort as he dropped to his knees before it.

“I don’t know what to do,” he blurted out, voice cracking. “I feel so lost. I have no idea what I’m doing or how to help him or-”

Wirt cut himself off with a shaky exhale, wringing his hands together as his gaze traced the faded curve of her name etched in stone. Pursing his lips, he reached out to touch it. He closed his eyes on a sigh and could almost feel the weight of the bluebird on his shoulder, her talons caught on his cape.

“I don’t want to be mad at him, Beatrice. I get that he went through something awful, I do, I just don’t get why he won’t at least admit that’s what’s bothering him. I can’t even begin to understand what’s going through his head and I- I want to. I want him to let me in. If we’re serious about this relationship, then isn’t that something we should do? Let each other in? I’ve never done this before. I don’t usually let people this close, you know that. I’m just starting to get used to having friends, to being a better big brother and a better son and now…” Wirt pursed his lips, worry lines creasing his eyes and mouth. “Beatrice, I just got him. I don’t want to lose him already and I feel him slipping away day by day.

“Each passing night the empty space in my bed whispers what I already know and wish to ignore, ‘he doesn’t want you, he doesn’t need you,’ yet still I turn my back on the ever-vigilant creature called doubt and burn away the branches of Edelwood threatening to drag me down, because they do, I feel them waiting for me in the corners of my mind, waiting until the last of my hope dies to tangle around my heart and fester like a infection a lack of hope is, to bring me to my knees in supplication as I watch him walk away from me knowing I could do nothing to stop it-”

As he ran out of breath, Wirt shook his head, imagining the eye roll and the annoyed peck he would’ve received in response. “Sorry,” he breathed, faking a smile. “I… I let that get away from me, huh?

“I guess it’s just… I feel like he’s already a million miles away from me and he’s right beside me in my bed, still close enough to touch. If we can’t talk to each other or work things out when we’re face-to-face, then how can we possibly survive when we’re on opposite coasts?”

His chest was tight again, tears smarting as they threatened to spill over his cheeks. The gravestone offered no comfort as the hard, gray rock stared at him. Wirt’s lip quivered. As rocky as their own relationship had been, she’d been his first friend. The first friend he’d really been able to open up to. She saved his life, and he returned the favor as best as he could, or so he hoped.

He missed her. If she was here, she’d offer some snide remark about how he needed to get over himself and stop being such a little whiner. Her wings would flutter and her chest puff out in an irritated sort of way.

_“Cheese and crackers, Wirt! Just tell him all this yourself! I’m sure if he knew how much you were tearing yourself up about all this, then he’d tell you what was going on and you could go back to being your sickeningly cute selves. C’mon, Wirt. Pull it together. You’re stronger than this. Show him that. Stop snivelling and show him he can rely on you. You’re not as much of a hopeless pushover as you make yourself out to be. Push back.”_

Wirt sniffled and scrubbed at his eyes with his fists. That last part sounded eerily familiar. What was it Dipper had said? When the world fights, fight back? He supposed that was what he fashioned that last part from. Push back. Fight back. Fight for him. That was something people did, right? While he didn’t consider himself much of a fighter, he would take a stand for something he believed in.

He believed in him and Dipper. He wasn’t going to let whatever this was force itself between them. He was Wirt Palmer, The Pilgrim, Wanderer of The Unknown. He was not a pushover.

If after he pushed… if he took his stand and Dipper still refused to let him in, then…

Then he’d stop. He’d give Dipper what he obviously wanted and he’d stop. He’d leave him alone. He’d let him go.

It wouldn’t be the first time someone he loved left him.

Wirt brushed his thumb over the bluebird impression he’d carved into her gravestone when he first found it, then rose to stand. “Thanks, Beatrice. For listening and… well, inspiring me from beyond. I promise the next time I visit I won’t be such a wreck.” He forced a smile for her. “I’ll bring you some flowers, too. Looks like the last ones I left have died.”

The cluster of Forget-Me-Nots from his step-dad’s garden had wilted, obvious in their recent placement, but it had been two weeks since he’d last left her flowers and with the summer heat, they hadn’t lasted long. Regardless of how things went with him and Dipper, he’d bring her flowers this week. He’d ask Greg or Mabel to pick something nice from the garden.

Nodding to himself, Wirt’s gaze lingered on her name for a few minutes longer before he turned away. “Goodbye, Beatrice.”

The tree by the back wall offered no resistance as he climbed it and settled on the edge. He stood on it, arms out for balance as he walked along it. From here he could see the lake shimmering far below him on the other side, moonlight reflected in the surface. Caught between the first quarter and the full moon.

Wirt hopped down, surprisingly graceful as he landed just shy of the railroad tracks. He could hear the three a.m. freight train in the distance, still a few miles away. Crossing them quickly, he watched his footfalls as he eased down the hill. Stumbling once or twice was unavoidable, the hill steep and the ground crumbly and dry in the summer heat, but he kept his weight shifted so if he fell it wouldn’t be forward to tumble right down to the water.

Sliding to the lakeside, Wirt gazed out at the dark water stretching far into the night. He glimpsed his reflection in the light of the moon and stars. The boy in the cone hat and navy cape looked just as brave and just as daring as he’d first thought when he donned the costume on Halloween night months ago.

He felt anything but.

The boy in his reflection could fight The Beast, he could support his brother and friend. He could support his boyfriend. Did Dipper see this in him still? Could Dipper depend on him?

He supposed that depended on Dipper. Wirt lifted his gaze to the stars, seeking out the big dipper constellation. He found it with ease, heart clenching as he counted each star marking it. Seven.

“And each one a point that I adore, the sweetness of your soul incapable of being contained within you it had to leave an imprint on your skin. One for the noble fir you are, standing tall, unshakeable, branches offered to support and shield, oh strong pine of mine. Two is your curiosity, questioning everything, seeking answers, a dull life impossible by your side. Three and four for generosity and devotion, your giving nature all encompassing. Five for drive, so stubborn and firm, never let it die. Six for beauty beyond belief, and seven bundles it all into a single entity I call you. The final point I so adore, pointing north towards Polaris to guide me home.”

It probably wouldn’t make Dipper feel any better, not when his birthmark already made him insecure and uncomfortable before it had been used as a path for Gideon’s knife to trace, blood streaming down his face, in his eyes, like grotesque tears. Tears of shame, like the shame in his eyes when he had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. Wirt was glad he didn’t write it down.

With a sigh, he dropped his gaze to the ground, skimming the dark bank for stones. He gathered a couple in his palm. The first stone skipped seven times over the surface of the lake.

Wirt snorted. Of course it did.

He skipped several more, focusing on the angle, on the pressure, the flick of his wrist to soothe his still spinning mind. It was distracting. He’d learned from an early age that skipping stones could relax him in ways even his clarinet couldn’t. They plipped on the surface, leaving ripples in each stone’s wake. Tiny waves, tiny indents. For a few seconds, the stone meeting the water left something behind, shifted something to make the water new before the stone sank, when it skipped so far, gave the water so many ripples until it just couldn’t anymore and succumbed to the inevitable. Stones couldn’t skip forever.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed out skipping stones, but the inky purple of the sky had lightened to a hazy gray by the time he turned to go. Phone still on his bedside table and without a watch he had no clear idea of the time. Decently sure Dipper had gone home by this point, Wirt hurried up the hill. He scaled the wall and dropped back into the cemetery.

The sky was pink with dawn by the time he returned home. So around five thirty then. The house would still be asleep, save for his boyfriend if he was actually home by now. Wirt took the key from his shoe and turned the lock. Except it was already unlocked. Holding his breath, he eased the door open. The other set of keys had been returned to the wall by the front door and Dipper’s shoes were by the closet.

He found him in the living room, his laptop and journal and all manner of distracting, busy things surrounding him on the couch. His head was tipped back, sleep-deprivation from the past few nights catching up with him to interrupt his night watch and manifesting as dark rings around his eyes, dark enough to look like bruises. His body was angled towards the front door, he had a perfect view of it. He’d been waiting for him.

Wirt’s shoulders sagged, his heart thumping painfully in his chest as he removed his cone hat and set it on the armchair. Gently, he removed the hibernating laptop from where it sat on Dipper’s thighs and set it on the coffee table. He didn’t read his journal, but he marked his place in it with a coaster, in case he needed it, then gathered it and other loose-leaf papers for the coffee table as well.

Taking Dipper’s ankles in hand, his boyfriend still fully dressed, he lifted his legs so he could stretch out along the couch rather than sleep sitting up. Wirt eased him back, smile soft when Dipper fidgeted and mumbled something. He unfastened the top button of his cape to shrug it from his shoulders. He draped it over Dipper as he slid onto the couch beside him. He tucked Dipper’s face into the crook of his neck while his arms wound around him so they could fit as comfortably as possible.

He was fighting for him, whether he liked it or not. If Dipper was going to fight him on this, then he’d fight back. No matter what that meant for them in the end.

He wasn’t going to leave him alone.


	12. Chapter 12

“We’re talking about this.”

Wirt waited until Greg and Mabel went out to help Jonathan in the garden out back before confronting Dipper in the living room that afternoon. There was more space there, more exits, more chances for escape. He didn’t want his boyfriend to feel trapped during this, so decided the living room was the best place to have this conversation rather than corralling him in his bedroom.

Grabbing the remote from the arm of the couch, Wirt clicked off the television even though Dipper wasn’t watching it. The noise was distracting. He wanted his full attention and no distractions.

Because they were talking about this. Both had been mildly annoyed with the other all morning after having woken up thanks to Greg asking for pancakes at eight. Not annoyed because of Greg, no. Wirt had gladly made him pancakes - well, tiredly made him pancakes. No, they were annoyed at each other for leaving the house.

Wirt could only imagine the surprise Dipper felt upon returning home, slinking into his bedroom to find that he wasn’t there. Wasn’t in the house at all. Well, it was a taste of his own medicine, Wirt reasoned to combat whatever guilt he might’ve felt over giving Dipper cause to camp out and wait for him to come back. It was his house, his hometown, he could leave whenever he wanted. Though not really, curfews and parental permission were still a thing.

That wasn’t the point though. The point was everything was building up. Things that wouldn’t have normally bothered the other - from what they’d discovered so far in the short course of their relationship - had a bit more vitriol than either of them would’ve liked. Wirt was being unreasonable, Dipper was being unreasonable, they both needed to talk this out.

Wirt needed to make his stand to clear the air, to stop letting Dipper get away with pushing this aside. So he stood in the middle of the living room, facing his boyfriend on the couch - his exhausted, silently suffering boyfriend. Wirt straightened his shoulders and held his head high, but he didn’t know what to do with his arms. He crossed them at first, but that was pretty closed off as far as body language went and he wanted to be open with him, so he placed them on his hips, but that made him feel childish, like Greg, so he let them fall to his sides, but he needed to do something with his hands, so he shoved them into his pockets.

That took far too long. Cheeks coloring in mild embarrassment, he cleared his throat and rocked up on the balls of his feet once before dropping his heels. _Get back on track, Wirt. Fight for him. Not a pushover. I’m not a pushover._

“So, yeah. Talking about this. Us. Now.”

Dipper resisted the urge to tiredly rub his eyes. Panic rose in them, chased by guilty shame. He was tired - physically from the lack of sleep, mentally from hiding. “Or we could not.”

“No, that’s not an option.” Wirt shook his head, pursing his lips as his worry rose. Maybe now wasn’t a good time, Dipper was tired, maybe he should schedule a time for them to talk- no. No, they were doing this.

“You’re exhausted,” he continued. “You haven’t been sleeping well for days, you’re having nightmares constantly, and you’re walking around all day like you’re got the weight of the world on your shoulders. I’ve been letting it slide because it’s your business and I figured you’d talk about it when you’re ready, but this is getting ridiculous, Dipper. I can’t- I’m not going to let this go anymore. You’re talking to me.”

“I’m-” _Fine_. He was fine. Everything was just fine. His gaze fell, a hand lifting to rake through his hair. His fingers hit his hat and, god, he was tired if that made him jolt. He yanked the bill down, shading his eyes. “I’ll be fine,” he amended.

Wirt’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the cap, heart twisting in his chest as it only created another barrier between them. “Stop hiding from me,” he demanded of him. “That’s all you’ve been doing lately and I’m tired of it. You won’t talk to me, you won’t talk to Mabel- it’s not good for you to bottle stuff up like this!”

His hands left the comforts of his pockets to drag his fingers through his hair, too, but unlike Dipper he clutched at his strands in frustration. “You’re not going to be fine unless you do something different, because whatever it is you’re doing now obviously isn’t working; Sneaking out instead of asking me for help when I’m right there. I’m right _here_. Talk to me, Dipper! I want to help you!”

“I- I _know_ , but-” _But he’ll hate you_. The voice slithered through him, prickling over his skin. He swallowed it down. “I know you’re- I know you want- I want to-” He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to tell him.

It welled up in his chest. He needed to say it. It was tearing him apart, but Wirt was upset with him, frustrated by him. The words died, face paling. _He already hates you_.

“You snuck out too,” tore out of him instead, searing his throat. “And you were gone a heck of a lot longer than I was. At least people are asleep when I leave. You didn’t even take your stupid _phone_.”

Wirt bristled, having the decency to look abashed for a second before getting defensive. “I didn’t have pockets,” he replied, though honestly it hadn’t even occurred to him to grab his phone, let alone think about whether or not he had somewhere to put it. “And I was upset. _I_ wasn’t asleep. I heard you leave. I didn’t want you to go and you did, you just- you just left! You pushed me away and then you left, and-”

He needed to get control over himself, he was getting upset, his gut churning and chest tight with guilt and frustration and the simple need to help him. At the core of all of this, that was what throbbed and ached inside him. He needed to help him, otherwise what good was he to him? If he couldn’t take care of his loved ones, if he wasn’t necessary to them, then what good was he?

“I’m sorry I left, okay? I’m sorry if I made you worry, but don’t you see? That’s what you’ve been doing to me. You’re making me worry, Dipper. Why don’t you want to talk to me?”

“I don’t want to talk to _anybody_!” He jumped up from the couch to pace, but stayed rooted to the spot as that churned through him. “It’s not about you! It’s not about any of you! It’s about me and what I did and why I let-” _Let him die. You let him die. You sat and watched a man die, and you did nothing._

His eyes went glassy, the trembling starting in his hands and slowly making its way through the rest of him. “It was my fault. I just- I have to- I-” He choked on the words, chest heaving like it did at the end of his nightmares, when he laid in the dark and struggled to breathe.

_He’ll hate you. He’ll tell them, and they’ll hate you. Everyone normally hates you. Why should this be different? Why is he different?_

Panic skittered along his skin, eyes wet and wild and hurt, and he stumbled back. His legs hit the couch and his hands flew up defensively. “I’m _sorry_.”

“Don’t freak out.” Wirt took a step towards him, arms reaching for him, but hesitating to fully bridge the distance when he was shaking and unable to catch his breath. “You don’t have to be sorry and you don’t have to freak out. I’m not trying to back you into a corner, Dipper, I’m just…” He hated this. He hated this so much. This was why he avoided confrontation. “You trust me, don’t you? I know it’s not easy for you, but you’ve said that you want to trust me. You have to let me in to trust me. You can’t just say you trust me and then not actually do it. What was your fault? What’s scaring you in your dreams? Is it your scar? Is it what Gideon did to you? Dipper, _please_. I’m- I’m not just anybody, you can tell me these things. You don’t have to carry it all on your own. Lean on me, let me help. You can trust me.”

Scar. Scar. It was a scar. It wasn’t a birthmark anymore. Dipper edged to the side, shuffling away. A hand lifted, bumping up his hat so he could rub too hard at the mark on his brow. Ugly, stupid. He should’ve fought harder. He should’ve been better. He could’ve saved himself. He could’ve saved a life.

But he did trust Wirt. He did, didn’t he? Surely he did. Dipper absolutely loved him. Even with the panic attack blowing his pupils wide and moving his feet ever closer towards the front door, he knew the love was still there. He found trust clinging there, and stopped moving. He clutched at his chest, grasping the fabric above his heart, and it was there. The truth was there and ready to spill out. It was right on the tip of his tongue.

_You may love him, but you hate yourself. He’s loveable. He’s trustworthy. You’re not._

He bit his lip hard and fled, leaving the front door flung wide in his haste to get out and get gone. He ran, not caring at all where he was going as long as it was far, far away.

Wirt stared at the doorway. _He left me._ Everything in him stopped twisting and grinding, frozen in place. Each tight, terrible feeling constricting him from the inside out. _He_ left _me._

Outstretched hand falling to his side, Wirt blinked slowly. Eyes wide with disbelief - with fear, heartache, the knowledge that Dipper didn’t trust him - took in the empty space where he’d been. He could go after him. He should go after him. He had to. He needed to.

But what good would that do? Dipper didn’t trust him. He didn’t want him. He’d rather suffer alone than ask Wirt for some comfort. His breath hitched, lungs burning as he realized he’d forgotten to breathe, all of the air in him rushing out right after Dipper.

“Come back,” he gasped, tears stinging suddenly and everything started moving again, too much, too fast. “Don’t go. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please come back. Dipper-”

It was too late, he wasn’t there. He left. He pushed him away and if he ever came back he wouldn’t be the same and it was his fault. He pushed him, he should’ve just left him alone. He should’ve stayed out of it. Why didn’t he leave him alone like he wanted? Why did he make him go?

Wirt grabbed at his chest, trying to breathe and calm his heart at the same time and failing at both. The room was unsteady, the floor rolling beneath his feet, the front door glaring at him. _You did this. It’s your fault he left._ He stumbled back, shaking his head. Everyone left. Everyone always left.

But he didn’t think Dipper would.

“Hey, Wirt, come see the-! Wirt?”

He flinched, jerking around to see Greg at the back door, hands and face smeared with dirt as he blinked at him. Wirt opened his mouth to say something, but there was nothing. Everything a complete blank. What could he say? He was better off saying nothing. His words drove Dipper away. Broke him and drove him away.

“Wirt, what’s wrong?” Greg pressed, fear and worry furrowing his brow as he stepped inside.

“He’s gone,” he choked out, the only explanation he could possibly offer. “He left. He doesn’t want me. He doesn’t-”

Nothing else could get out, his throat locking around his words. With a strangled, wounded sound, Wirt backed away, shaking his head while his little brother glanced at the front door, then turned on his heel and fled. He stumbled into his room, safe and familiar and maybe it wouldn’t spin as much in here and he could pretend Dipper hadn’t left. He slammed the door behind him, pressing the weight of his body against it in lieu of a lock and sobbed, hiding his face in his hands. Slowly, he slid down to curl up on the floor, back still bracing it while he drew up his knees.

He ruined it. One of the best things that ever happened to him, and he’d gone and ruined it. _Why do you have to ruin everything?_

 

\----

 

Dipper ran until his feet just stopped, sinking down right onto the sidewalk to scrub his hands over his face and try to breathe through his sobs. What was he doing? What had he done?

“Yeah, Dipper, you totally trust and love your boyfriend. You big, giant idiot.”

Running away like a complete coward. It was pathetic. He was pathetic. Again. Still. Dipper pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes to stop the threatening tears. The sobs wracked his frame, but his cheeks stayed dry.

When the world fights, fight back. When Wirt fights, curl into as tight a ball as possible and cry.

He made himself stand, dropping his hands to look around. The town looked different in the day, but he knew where he was. He knew just how to get back to the Palmer-Whelan home. Turning on his heel, he went in exactly the opposite direction. How could he possibly go back after that? What could he possibly say?

He still couldn’t tell him the truth. He still didn’t want to, honestly. The truth was a dagger in his mind, and he had no business ripping it out to shove it into Wirt’s. He could come up with something equally as good, couldn’t he? Wirt had given him an out. The scar.

Dipper’s eyes wanted to cry, so he rubbed them. It hurt that he would call it a scar. It was, obviously, but Wirt hadn’t even seen it. No one had seen it except Dipper and the nurses and doctor who had checked to make sure it was healing. So the male twin knew very well that his brow was scarred.

But he still thought of it as a birthmark. He still thought of it as the reason for his nickname. He still thought of his mother bundling him in her lap and cooing at it. _“Look at my big Dipper!”_ Birthmark was natural, sweet and innocent. Scar was unnatural, ugly and tainted.

His lips quivered, but he swallowed and jammed his hands into his pockets. His shoulders hunched defensively. It would be easy to tell Wirt that.

“Yes, it’s the sc...” Even by himself he couldn’t force out the word. He lifted a hand, pushed his cap back to rub beneath his bangs. “It’s the birthmark, and what he did to it. That’s all,” he mumbled, but it was hollow. Oh, it was there. It featured regularly in the nightmares and sometimes he woke up, head burning as if the knife was still embedded in his skin.

But it wasn’t all. It wasn’t everything. It wasn’t bloodshot eyes boring into his, seeking help while he struggled against bonds that were just too tight.

Shivering, Dipper rubbed his wrists one at a time and stopped when he reached the cemetery. His head tipped back, gaze tracing the letters. Eternal Garden. He’d been meaning to mention it to Wirt, to ask him more about it. If he even knew anything about it, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to. Just like he couldn’t bring himself to tell him about the guilt which weighed him down too heavily. He could barely feel the prickle of magic within, a clear sign of his distress.

He made his feet move, intending to keep walking down the sidewalk, but he found himself breaking the threshold of the cemetery. Why not? His mind was on death. Why not be amongst the dead?

Cupping his elbows, he walked along the rows of tombstones. Typical New England, cramming the bodies of loved ones as close together as possible yet still managing to be completely haphazard about it. But this half of the country was older, so much older than the side he called home, and some of the dates had him sighing. Who remembered these old souls? So many of the stones looked tended to, only a few overgrown. If he wasn’t feeling so numb, he’d tug at the vines and uncover the names and wonder about their stories.

He almost tripped over one, sidestepping quickly, and he glanced down. A child. His breath caught, heart jumping in his chest. He looked at the one beside it and the one beside that, and wanted to curl in on himself. The surnames were all the same, the second date on them all the same or pitifully close to the same. As if they’d all fallen ill, an entire family wiped away at once.

One had flowers, or the remains of them at any rate, and he was drawn to it.

Dipper sank to his knees, eyes going round and wide as he stared at the faded name and the bluebird etched onto the stone. “Beatrice,” he whispered.

The symbol was traced carefully, and he wished he hadn’t rushed out of the house if only to have a pencil and paper to etch her name. He’d known, of course, that she was dead. The Lorna Dipper had quietly been researching for his boyfriend, to give him another piece of the girl who had clearly made an impact on him, had been dead. So of course Beatrice would be as well.

Not everyone made it out of The Unknown. Not everyone learned its secrets and bested it. But she’d been so snippy, so full of verve and life, and she’d been a bird. The pictures he and Mabel had of her were of a bird. He didn’t know what the girl had looked like, but here was the proof that she really had been the human she’d claimed to be.

“I messed up,” he whispered. “I messed up, leaving him like that. I should probably go back, but... What if he doesn’t want me to go back? What if he really does hate me now? What if he won’t look at me? What do I do? What _can_ I do? I know I can’t tell him. I just can’t get the words out, so what...?”

_“Cheese and crackers, you’re full of questions.”_

The tears started to fall. He drew his knees up to his chest, sitting in the dirt and staring at a tear-blurred tombstone. She hadn’t made it out. She and her family had been trapped, but he’d made it out. He and Mabel, Greg and Wirt. Mystery Best Friends, all present and accounted for.

They’d survived The Unknown, and they’d survived Splinter Man’s wrath. Gideon’s insanity. He felt the fear bubble, but didn’t fight it as he normally did. He let it shudder through him, remembering the way Gideon had looked before pulling that trigger. His mind had been gone, warped, twisted. Even if he had gotten out of the binds, would it have helped? What could he have done besides take the hit himself?

And then Mabel would have been left an only child. Greg would have had to live knowing Dipper had been taken to that basement in his stead. Wirt would have... His mind tapered off at that, eyes closing as his chin settled atop his knees. Would Wirt be smiling as much as he was?

His mind drifted over the sweet scenes they’d shared. Hands holding, kisses exchanged, smiles and laughs shared. Dancing with him, cuddling with him, talking to him about everything and nothing. Comfortable silences brought on by the sheer contentment of being close. He liked to think Wirt wouldn’t have smiled so much had Dipper been the one to lose his air in that basement. He liked to think that he was cared about that much, that he made an impact on someone’s life.

He sighed quietly and didn’t even notice falling asleep. Wirt sat behind him, their backs resting against the other’s.

_“You’re making me worry, Dipper.”_

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered.

_“You don’t have to be sorry and you don’t have to freak out. I’m not trying to back you into a corner.”_

“I know you weren’t.”

_“Why don’t you want to talk to me?”_

“I do want to. I’m just scared. I love you so much, but no one ever cares about me how I care about them. You’ll hate me.”

_“You can trust me.”_

“How?”

_“You don’t have to carry it all on your own. Lean on me, let me help.”_

He leaned back, pressing against his boyfriend. A hand fell, meeting one of Wirt’s on the ground. Their fingers laced. “Gideon forced me to watch a man die, and I can’t get over it.”

Wirt was silent but for a squeeze of his hand, but another voice had him looking up. A girl sat on the tombstone. Red hair was bundled atop her head, freckles dusting her cheeks. The long blue dress she wore hid the name and the etched on bluebird. _“Wow, look at that! You actually are capable of being useful!”_

She leaned forward, flicked his cap, and the voice wasn’t an echo of words already said. “Why don’t you try actually asking how he feels instead of just assuming the worst? Cheese and crackers, kid. You’re hopeless.”

His eyes widened and he reached out to touch her and ended up with his palm flat on the tombstone. He shuddered, looking around. Wirt was gone and he was awake. He pinched himself just to make sure, relieved at the bite of pain. He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep. Minutes could have passed, maybe hours. He scrambled to his feet, but took the time to lay his hand over the bluebird. “Thank you,” he whispered, and left the Eternal Garden to try and make things better.

When Wirt fights, let him in. Prove he was trusted.

 

\----

 

He opened the door cautiously, wary of seeing anyone or of being seen. He could see Mabel on the couch, knitting the rapid way she only did when she was upset. He winced, knowing full well that he was the cause for the upset. But he could patch things up with her soon, and with Greg, who was sitting beside her. Jason Funderburker was in his lap, and his hands were holding the loop of yarn Mabel was using to create socks for a frog’s cold feets.

He took off his shoes silently. He wouldn’t need them. He wasn’t running away again as long as Wirt didn’t push him away, and he dearly hoped he wouldn’t.

He managed to slip by their siblings undetected, going down the hall in a blind guess that Wirt would be in his room and not elsewhere in the house. Or outside. He’d have to apologize for that, for worrying him so much that he’d go traipsing about the town all hours in his pajamas. Just add it to the list.

He didn’t knock, instead slipping quietly into the room and closing the door soundlessly behind him. Wirt was hunched over his so-called desk, a pencil clenched in his unmoving fist, and Dipper shivered. He did trust him, and he very much loved him. His throat and heart both ached with the emotions.

“Hi, Wirt,” he said quietly.

Shoulders tensed, the grip on the pencil hard enough to snap the lead, the only sound aside from the ticking clocks for a moment. Wirt’s head was propped up by his left hand, left elbow on the tabletop, writing with his right for once to hide his face, as if it could shield him from whatever walked through the door. His breathing stayed soft and even as his gaze fixated on the few lines littering the page, crumpled balls of paper threatening to take over his workspace and his floor.

But after those first few moments of silence, the tension fled and his fingers let up on choking the pencil. A shaky exhale escaped him, all relief and gratitude and fear. But he still kept his head angled away.

“Hey,” he croaked out, voice hoarse and thick even as he forced nonchalance, forced normalcy. “Did you have a good walk?”

He didn’t want normalcy and nonchalance. It would be too easy to retreat, to go right back into hiding. Dipper wiped damp palms in his jeans. “Not really. It was a run. I always run when I’m panicked. In fourth grade, I ran off campus and police were called and they found me in an alley ten blocks away. They threw me in therapy, and I hated that so I got over it.

“Except now it’s back. It never really left, but I could fight better. I can’t fight right now because I’m fighting too many other things because I’m- I’m trash, okay? I’m just complete trash, and I’m sorry. I do trust you, but I’m doing literally the worst job showing you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” It wasn’t, but he didn’t want him to leave again. Wirt lowered his arm as he lifted his head to look at him. Weary worry lines stood out darkly around his eyes and his mouth tight in the corners as he forced it not to tremble.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you. You’re not trash, god, don’t even say that.” He paled a bit as his stomach rolled, physically pained at the idea. “You’re going through a lot and I made everything worse by demanding you do something you didn’t want to do. I made you panic. If anything I should be sorry. I am sorry. You don’t have to tell me anything.”

“Yes, I do. I want to, except I don’t want to. I’ve been trying to work it through my head, and that’s what isn’t working. I want to tell you everything, but I’m freaking terrified that you’ll stop looking at me like I matter. But I’m kind of doing that anyway by not telling you.”

He reached up to take off his hat, but couldn’t make himself do it. He did twist it, keeping the bill from shading his eyes. He wanted to stop hiding. “I was having nightmares at the Shack. I’m, like, ninety percent sure that the whole reason we’re here is because Mabel wanted me to talk to you about them so they would go away. But they went away without me saying anything. They went away because you were here, and I was safe.

“My stupid panic attack at Sara’s place just brought them all back, and I thought- I keep hoping they’ll just go away again, but they’re not because... because you’re right. I’m sneaking out instead of rolling over and reaching for you. For safety.

“It’s dumb and it’s childish and...” His eyes closed briefly. “Please don’t hate me for running away. I wasn’t running from you. I’ve been trying to run away from myself, and it’s not working. I ran back to you. I need you.”

Heart lurching, Wirt pushed back his chair to stand. Crumpled paper was kicked aside as he erased the distance between them. He reached out, tentative and unsure despite the words, and settled for gripping his shirt with trembling fingers. Anchoring himself to him.

“I don’t hate you.” Wirt’s gaze traveled over his face, finding the stress and pain alongside honesty. “I don’t think I could. I just thought… I thought you decided I wasn’t any good to you and I got myself all worked up about you leaving and maybe never coming back and-” He tightened his hold on him. “Do you hate _me_? I didn’t handle this right at all, so I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

Shock joined the emotional upheaval, Dipper quick to shake his head. “No. No, I can’t- I’ll never hate you. That’s the furthest thing from what I’ve got for you, and- Oh my god, I’m sorry. Never think I hate you.” He reached up, not bothering to control the tremors as he cupped Wirt’s face. “Never think I won’t come back. I’m a great big idiot, but I’m not dumb enough to leave you.”

Wirt immediately covered Dipper’s hands with his own. “And I’m not dumb enough to ever look at you like you don’t matter. You matter so much.” He released his hands so his arms could finally wrap around him the way he’d wanted ever since Dipper swatted him away in his sleep. He hugged him tightly, so he couldn’t doubt how much he needed him back. “I don’t want to lose you. We haven’t had enough time and- and I want so much more with you. I want you, Dipper. Your highs and lows and everything in between. Please believe that.”

Dipper hugged him back, gripping his sweater with a needy little gasp. “Is it okay if I- I’m sorry, but I can’t- I just can’t say what’s in the dreams yet. I can’t say it. But I’ll reach for you next time. Is that okay?”

“It’s okay. Yeah, it’s okay.” Wirt rubbed his back firmly, his voice breaking as he was held back just as much. “It’s more than okay. Just stay with me. Let me hold you if you’re scared. Let me care about you. That’s all. Stay with me, please.”

“I-I will. I promise, I will. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry you’re hurting.” He dropped a kiss to his neck. “I’m sorry about your birthmark. About Gideon. About everything.”

 _Birthmark_. He nuzzled Wirt’s hair, a shiver working through him as a small piece healed. “You... Earlier, you said it was a scar.”

Wirt lifted his head to look at him, blinking slowly. “I… there’s a scar on your birthmark and I thought that might’ve been what… I’m sorry. If that bothered you, I’m sorry.”

“I mean- It’s just-” He pressed his lips together, desperate to give him something. Prove that he really did trust him enough for something. He pressed their foreheads together, struggling with himself. “It’s in the nightmares, most of them. I passed out during- while he did it, but I don’t always pass out in the dreams, and it’s just...

“But it’s still just a birthmark. I can’t let Gideon take that from me. I already hide it when I used to- I used to love it before I started to hide it all the time, so people have stolen enough. I can’t call it a scar. He messed it up. but it’s still a birthmark first for me.”

Wirt nodded, hands gentling to stroke his sides. “Okay. I won’t call it a scar again. It’s your birthmark.” He nuzzled him, mindful of the bill of his cap. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t tell you, so... yeah.” He sighed, relieved when he didn’t press for details, and pressed closer. A hand slipped up, petting Wirt’s hair as tension eased from his shoulders. “Stop saying sorry, okay? You were right. We needed to talk. There’s still... stuff, but... You were right, and I shouldn’t have freaked out.”

Tilting his head into the touch, the hammering in Wirt’s heart slowed and he calmed considerably. “Sometimes you can’t help freaking out. I know I can’t. Especially given what happened…” He met his gaze, his own full of promise. “Whenever you’re ready to talk more is fine. If it’s while you’re here or when you’re back home over the phone. I’ll wait. As long as we find a way to help you get some sleep and ease that busy brain of yours.” Wirt cupped his chin and turned his head just enough so he could kiss his temple.

Dipper’s eyes closed slowly. “This is, uh... weird, but I kind of fell asleep while I was gone. At the cemetery? Um. I found Beatrice.”

“Oh, you did?” While curious, it didn’t stop him from giving him another kiss, lips light over closed eyelids. “I was just there. Last night. Or this morning. Whatever you want to call it.” Pulling back, he cast him a considering look. “How did that help you sleep?”

“I don’t know. I was thinking about you and why I was an idiot, and just talking to myself - okay, I was talking to her.” He smiled a little at the admission, tired eyes opening again. “And then... I don’t know. I was asleep. I dreamt of you and... her.” His brow furrowed as he pulled together pieces of the dream. “Maybe. Did you only ever see her as a bird or did you see her as a human?”

Wirt shook his head, hands seeking Dipper’s to lace their fingers together, then took a few steps towards the bed. “Only as a bird. I gave her the scissors to turn her and her family human again and… she went one way and I went another. It’s… I wish I had. I don’t wish I’d done anything differently because who knows if Greg and I would’ve made it if I had, but… I just wish there was some way to know if it worked. What she really looked like. I ask her sometimes, but it’s not like she can answer.”

“I think I know.” He let himself be led, a little scared, but willing to lay with him. “Everything in the dream was an echo. Stuff you had just said to me, stuff she said to me back in The Unknown. Except the last thing she said.”

Dipper shook his head, a little more uncertain when he was nudged into bed first. This wasn’t his side. His side was the edge. “Um. Plus, that cemetery has the same feel Salem had. The veil’s thin there, so she could’ve poked through just to call me hopeless. Sounds like her.”

Straightening up, Wirt’s soft gaze widened and something like hope lit them. “Could she do that?” he asked, climbing onto the bed after him. “Really?”

“Of course. Things like that happen.” Dipper scooted close immediately, hesitating a moment before removing his hat and offering it to be hooked onto the bedpost. “I could look up a couple things, control the environment, and then... You know. You could talk to her. I just need to do the research.”

His heart clenched as he secured the hat, for more reasons than one. Dipper giving up the hat to him made him shiver with assurance that they’d be okay was the first, the second being what he was offering. A chance to talk to Beatrice through the veil was more than he’d ever imagined after their goodbyes.

“I’d- I’d like that,” he replied, having to clear his throat as he rolled to face him, slinging his arm over him to draw him in. “But focus on yourself first, okay? Giant frog hunts and talking to Beatrice - actually talking to her and not pretending… they’re not as important as you.”

But they were. Frog hunt for Greg, contacting Beatrice for Wirt? They were just as important as he was, more so. Dipper would have argued and considered rolling them, situating themselves as normal, but he couldn’t build up the energy for either. He’d just had a nap, but with his head on the pillow and his cheek nestled against Wirt’s chest he found his eyes closing despite himself.

“Is that where you went over? By the cemetery?” he murmured.

“Yeah.” Wirt tucked his other arm around him as well, using it to comb his fingers through Dipper’s hair while he kept his voice low, hoping to lull him to sleep with his voice. “Did you see the stone wall in the back while you were there? We climbed that. Ended up on the railroad tracks on the other side as a train was coming, fell down the hill to get out of the way. Took quite a bit of effort to get Greg and I down there, I gotta say. That lake really wanted us in it.”

“Mmhm. Gave me you.” He sighed, Wirt’s voice doing its job well. Dipper’s own was thick with the promise of sleep. “Can we go? I wanna... wanna see your lake.” He fell asleep without hearing the answer, the nap blessedly void of dreams, whether nightmare or otherwise, while tucked safely between Wirt and the wall.

 

\----

 

Mabel placed a hand on her hip, the other cradling a bundle of flowers, and stared up at the gate of the Eternal Garden. She could feel the thrum of energy as well as her twin. She glanced at him, smiling since his hand was clasped in Wirt’s. That was better. That was right. She didn’t know what had been said between them, and wasn’t going to ask, but she was glad to see ob-waffle back on track. She was glad to know her brother had gotten some sleep.

She’d poked her head in to check on Wirt, and had been surprised to find him and a sleeping Dipper snuggled close. How her bro-bro had managed to sneak by was a mystery, but she’d silently lifted her hand and had wiggled her thumb up and down in question. Wirt’s thumbs-up had been slightly tilted, so she took to mean everything was, for the most part, okay. The hand-holding now was a plus in that particular column.

“So why did we think Lakeville wouldn’t have magic in it?” she wondered aloud.

Dipper shrugged, giving his boyfriend’s hand a squeeze. “I don’t know. We were definitely wrong.”

“Is that why we were able to go to The Unknown when we fell in the lake? Because of magic in the cemetery?” Greg asked, clinging to Wirt’s other hand, refusing to let go even as he leaned back and fidgeted with the need to be moving nearly constantly.

Wirt maintained his grip on his little brother even as he bounced about. Until Greg deemed him fully recovered and capable of being without him at his side constantly, shaking him loose wasn’t an option. He lifted Wirt’s arm and used it to spin before flopping against him.

“Well, we don’t know that for sure yet, Greg. But it’s possible,” he replied, looking to Dipper with an apologetic smile when Greg bumping into him caused a domino effect of sorts and had him bumping into his boyfriend as a result.

Dipper shrugged, returning the smile. He felt better after some solid sleep. Not fully back to normal, but better enough that he didn’t feel the need to frown about every little thing. “Yeah.”

Mabel skipped ahead of them, at ease with the setting. “Which way’s Beatrice?”

Wirt made to point, but with both of his hands very taken, he looked to Greg to lead the way, giving his little brother the chance to puff up his chest and beam. “This way! By all the old gravestones because hers is really old. Like, really, really old and-”

“Why don’t you go on ahead and show her where it is?” Wirt suggested as Greg tugged on him to get him moving, which again, like dominos, got Dipper moving, too.

Greg slowed immediately. “No.”

“Greg-”

“We’ll all go together. I want us to all see her together.” Greg waited for Dipper to find his footing, for Wirt to shift from squeezing his boyfriend’s hand to looping his arm around his waist to maybe make it easier. “Okay. Beatrice is almost by the fence, but not quite,” he continued.

Dipper had been ready to step away and walk with Mabel, but the arm around his waist left him floundering. He usually knew what to do with his hands, but it took him a few steps before deciding to jam them into his pockets. It wasn’t even that he minded being held; he was rather pitifully grateful that Wirt hadn’t released him entirely.

But it was Greg that currently made him feel uncertain. Mabel had been an easy fix. Just an, “I’m sorry I’ve been a jerk. I talked to him, and I’ll keep talking to him,” had been enough to earn a smile and fist bump. Greg was harder. He hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Greg because the boy was as unwilling to leave Wirt’s side as Dipper was.

Mabel spun, walking backwards to smile at them. “I’m so jealous that I’m the only one who hasn’t gotten to see her.”

Wirt shrugged a little, his answering smile a sideways quirk of his lips. “Sorry. I did want us all to come out here and see her at some point while you were here.”

“Me and Wirt and sometimes Jason Funderburker bring her flowers all the time - even when it was snowing and we talk to her before going over the wall,” Greg told them, but his gaze was focused on Mabel ahead of them, wanting to walk backwards just like her because it looked fun, but his hand stayed firmly in Wirt’s. “We visited her when we got back from seeing you guys and told her all about you! So she’d know you were okay, too!”

“Well, we talked about you before that,” Wirt added, squeezing Dipper’s side, hoping to get him to relax against him. “I mean, we just told her you were fine and about your videos and stuff and how we were going to see you in the summer.”

Mabel laughed, watching her twin lean more fully against Wirt. He was so much needier than he let show, and she was really hoping that Wirt would be able to support that. She knew Dipper would always prop his boyfriend up, but it had to be mutual or ob-waffle was going to crumble. She had faith, though. Wirt was stronger than he seemed at first glance, and had proven that both in The Unknown and in facing off against Splinter Man.

He’d be able to handle whatever secrets her brother was holding, she just knew it, and they would both be stronger for it.

Her smile tipped to Greg, became a little more soothing. Her partner in crime hadn’t handled Wirt’s absolute panic well, and she knew from chatting with him on the couch waiting for Dipper to come back that he wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about him being the cause of Wirt’s panic. Her boys were all a mess. It was amusing and sad to see that she and Wirt were the two handling things best.

“Well, telling her about us after you see for yourselves that we’re okay is important. Just as important as us all saying hi together.”

“Yeah!” Greg agreed as they turned down the row that Dipper and Wirt had already been to that day. Greg pointed ahead of them. “There it is, Mabel! It’s the one with the bluebird! Wirt put it there!”

“Shh, Greg, keep it down. We can’t let the world know I’m going around defacing private property.”

“That’s how I knew it was her. The name alone would’ve made me wonder, y’know? But...” Dipper shrugged, a hand laying over Wirt’s on his waist.

Mabel set the bundle of flowers she and Greg had picked, tracing the bluebird with a fingertip, and remembered sharing candy-sweet mushrooms. “This doesn’t count as defacing anyway. It’s too nice.”

“It’s not, it’s just- I dunno. It’s something I felt like I had to do, I guess. It felt right. Kept her memory fresh, you know? Like, there are still people who remember her here.” Wirt released Greg’s hand to ruffle his hair, smile bright and reassuring when his little brother looked up at him. “Go say hi. I talked her ear off earlier, so I’m sure she’s had more than enough of dealing with me.”

Hesitant to step away from him, Greg glanced at Dipper and the way his brother was holding him. Even though Dipper still looked tired, he wasn’t pushing Wirt away or trying to get away from him. Plus, it didn’t look like Wirt was willing to let him go without a fight. Wirt was stubborn when he wanted to be. And he was strong, too, sometimes. When he had to be.

He just didn’t want Wirt to think he’d ever leave him, too. Greg gave him a smile and a pat to his side. “Sure thing, brother o’ mine. Hi, Beatrice! Look, it’s General Mabel and Admiral Dipper! We brought them to say hi, too!”

Mabel sank to her knees, sitting back on her heels. More sad than she thought she'd be, the dates on the faded stone too close together, she brightened her smile and tugged Greg in for a quick, tight hug. “Flowers, too. They're clearly necessary.”

Dipper tilted his head, resting it on Wirt's shoulder and wondering if she knew they were there and, if she did, how. The wondering brought on a headache - though he could combine that with stress easily enough.

Wirt turned his head, pressing his lips to the hat. Firm enough that he could feel it through the fabric. He stroked his side, content to keep him tucked in the curve of his arm, right up against him, while they observed the grave and their siblings from where they stood.

“It’s thin here,” Mabel realized, pursing her lips as she traced the name with a finger and committed it to memory. “It’s really thin.”

“I know. We’ll come back.” Dipper let his eyes close on a sigh, lowering his voice for Wirt. “I don’t want to mess up. I’m too tired. I might pull too hard or... something, I don’t know.”

“Hey, no, I didn’t expect you to try.” Wirt hugged him closer, relishing in having his other arm freed so he could wrap both around him. “That wasn’t why we came here. You wanted to see the lake. I wanted to replace Beatrice’s flowers.”

“I know, but...” Dipper needed to give him something, and this was something he could do. He fidgeted a moment, uncertain of his welcome, but wasn’t able to resist reaching up to wrap his arms around Wirt and hold tight. One hand tangled in the hair at the back of his neck, toying with it. He could do something small, though. He wasn’t too tired for that, and he’d read the journals backwards and forwards and had dealt with spirits enough times that he didn’t need resources for something small. “Close your eyes. Tr... Trust me.”

Wirt’s brow furrowed, more out of curiosity than anything, but he closed his eyes nonetheless. He did trust Dipper, and if he was going to press for the same from him, then he needed to show him that completely. He kept his arms around him, a soft, contented sound whispering from his lips as he focused on the hand in his hair and the way their bodies fit together.

“Just listen to me,” Dipper murmured, keeping his voice low, unobtrusive. “Let everything go except her name. Just Beatrice.” He left off the surname; Wirt hadn’t known that when they’d actually interacted. “She has red hair,” he began and quietly, in careful details, described her face, her height and general build. Everything but one detail that he let Wirt - or, more importantly, Beatrice - fill in for him. “What color is her dress?” he whispered.

The image in his mind lifted the hem of her dress just slightly, letting the skirt shift to show off the color. “Blue?” Wirt breathed.

“Sound more certain of it, genius. I mean, did you really expect it’d be anything else?”

His eyes flew open on a startled sound, his hands clenched tight in Dipper’s vest. That wasn’t his mind. That wasn’t him making up something for her to say. That wasn’t a memory. That was Beatrice’s voice coming from a girl he’d never seen before. With a smug expression he’d only ever seen on the bird’s face. Chest tight, heart stuttering in disbelief, he stared at Dipper with wide eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, closed it to reconsider, then tried again with similar results.

“I… how did…? I thought you were too tired,” he eventually managed to say.

“Not for that. That was, like, a breeze lifting a curtain. When I’m not tired, we’re tying the curtain back.” He shrugged, letting go with one hand to cover his yawn. “That was more you, anyway. You wanting to see her, and her wanting to be seen. You know? So it wasn’t that hard, and I just...” _I love you_. He hadn’t done a good job of showing him that either over the past few days. “I wanted to give you something.”

“Dipper, I’m fine.” Wirt’s shoulders sagged and he lifted a hand to place against his cheek. “You don’t have to give me anything. Not as long as I’ve already got you.” Concerned, he searched Dipper’s eyes for signs of further exhaustion. “Should we head back? I can always take you to the lake tomorrow.” Though he’d been saying that since Dipper stirred from his nap and the decision to come had been made.

“No. Come on, man. We’re already here.” He wanted to close his eyes, hide the extra strain it had put on him, but he was trying to trust him. His hand covered Wirt’s, keeping it on his face. “And I know I didn’t have to, but I care about you. She matters to you, and you should get to see her, even if it’s really quick like that.”

“That was more than I ever imagined having. I never thought-” Wirt stroked his thumb over the apple of his cheek, then leaned in to press their lips together. “Thank you. That’s… that’s really what she looks like?”

“Yeah. That was her. Next time, Greg and Mabel will be able to see her and you can actually talk to her if I do everything right.” The light kiss soothed wonderfully, Dipper swaying forward for another. “Can I have one more?” he mumbled.

“You could have one more. Or you could have two more. You know, it’s up to you.” Wirt let this kiss linger, a little deeper than the first, but still patient and trusting. He didn’t demand anything with it. “Personally, think I’m partial to two.”

“Two’s better,” Dipper agreed, taking the comfort given in the next kiss and pushing some back. He didn’t have much to give, but he gave what was there.

Mabel shook her head at them, lips curved. “Ob-waffle.” Her smile fell a bit when it wasn’t immediately returned, gaze falling to the youngest member of their group. “Greg?”

He was watching them out of the corner of his eye as he pretended to arrange the flowers. Wirt looked happier, seemed happier, but something was still off about Dipper. He was still tired and sad from what Greg could see. Even if it looked like they were trying to be normal by kissing and hugging and ob-waffle. But something had happened. He didn’t know what though. All Wirt had said about it was that he was sorry for freaking out and that everything was going to be okay now that Dipper was back.

But things hadn’t been okay before Dipper left either. “Can we go see the lake? I want to go home soon, I think Jason Funderburker misses me.” Greg looked over at Mabel, the lucky frog having been left behind so he could focus on Wirt, then he shifted his gaze to the marker and gave it a pat. “Sorry, Beatrice.”

“I think she understands.” Mabel took one of Greg’s hands in both of hers. “Are you mad at Dipper, baby?”

Greg blinked and gasped, then he shook his head rapidly to assure Mabel that wasn’t the case. “No, he’s Admiral Dipper. I can’t be mad at him, I-” He cut himself off with a pensive frown. He wasn’t really sure what he was, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t mad.

“I don’t know,” Greg continued. “I know I don’t want him to make Wirt cry again, but I don’t think that makes me mad. I’m confused. And I gotta protect Wirt ‘cause that’s my job, but... I didn’t think I had to protect him from Dipper.” The last part was admitted quietly as he held onto Mabel’s hand.

This precious little boy was far too smart and way too grown up. “You know he didn’t mean to make Wirt cry.” She lifted a hand to stroke his hair gently. “But he still did, so that doesn’t help, huh? I think you should talk to Admiral Dipper about it. He doesn’t want you to be upset either, honorary little brother.”

Greg averted his gaze. “I don’t want to bother him. He’s still tired and I don’t want to upset him.”

She leaned closer, bumping their noses together. “Boop.” Their noses were rubbed together. “You won’t bother him, baby. He loves you. But I think you not trusting him to keep Wirt safe would hurt him more than you asking why he made Wirt cry.”

That got Greg to look at her again. “I don’t want to hurt his feelings,” he replied earnestly. “I love him, too. But Wirt’s my big brother… Do you think he’ll understand if I ask? He won’t think it’s ‘cause I’m mad and that I’m just looking out for Wirt like he’d do for me?”

“Of course he’ll understand.” It was Dipper, easily the most protective person in the world. He had to understand. “Come on, I’ll distract Wirt.”

With a nod, Greg squeezed her hand and turned to face their brothers beside her. They weren’t kissing anymore, but they were still pretty lost in each other. Dipper was leaning into him, head on his shoulder with his eyes closed for a minute, while Wirt had his cheek resting against the top of Dipper’s hat, his gaze trained on a grave farther away, but Greg was fairly certain he wasn’t actually looking at it. Whatever he was thinking about wasn’t that captivating though, because he noticed them right away, ready to offer both him and Mabel a smile.

“Ready to show Dipper and Mabel how you can climb that tree like a pro, Greg?” he asked, rubbing Dipper’s shoulder.

Greg glanced at Mabel. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I’m ready.”

She ruffled his hair and rose, brushing off her skirt. “I know you are, baby. You’ll do great.” She bounced to Wirt, hooking an arm around one of his when Dipper withdrew. “I’m borrowing you. Show me who else you know, okay? It can’t just be Beatrice.”

“Mabel-”

She cut off her twin’s protests with a giggle. “It’ll be fine, Dipdop. We can meet you at the wall. You and Greg.”

His argument died at the words, her gaze darting to Greg and back, both brows arching in silent communication. Cheerful tone or not, he knew a signal when he saw one as far as Mabel was concerned.

Slowly, he let his hands fall away from his boyfriend and offered Greg a hesitant smile. “Okay. Yeah.”

“Wait, are you sure? Um.” Wirt’s gaze shifted from Dipper to Greg to Mabel, confused by this turn in events. Why was he being dragged from the two people who’d been fairly adamant on sticking to his side ever since he’d left his room? From what he could gather in Mabel’s expression, she wanted their brothers to talk. Wirt pursed his lips and shot Greg a warning glance. It was returned with a sweet smile and a wave. His eyes narrowed. Yeah, he couldn’t trust that smile as far as he could throw the person attached to it. “Yeah, Mabel, I don’t know…”

“Good thing I do! Come on!”

Dipper rolled his eyes at his twin, gave a shrug for Wirt. “It’s fine, man. It’s not like we’re going to be far.”

“Yeah, but-” His protests were cut off as Mabel tugged him away. “Okay, okay! Greg, be _good_. Captain’s orders.”

“Roger that.” Greg nodded, hands clasped behind his back as he watched and waited for the two of them to get a safe enough distance away. Then the happy smile he’d worn for his brother fell, and he hesitated to glance up at Dipper. He fidgeted a little, chewing on his lower lip as he debated how to start. It was easier telling Mabel.

“Are you feeling better at all, Dipper?” he asked, figuring that was good for now.

“Some.” Dipper sighed, moving closer to him and crouching down to get to his level. No one took kids seriously, but he would. Greg deserved that. “What’s going on in that head of yours, man?”

“Lots of things.” Greg appreciated him being more at his height now, but he still dropped his gaze to the ground. “Mostly trying to take care of Wirt, like I want to and like you said to. But it’s hard because I don’t really know what happened. I just know it had something to do with you.” He did look up at that, a little timid and a lot serious.

Dipper flinched, unable to help it. “Yeah. I haven’t been... I’ve been a pretty rotten boyfriend and brother the past few days, huh?” Sighing, he laid a hand on Greg’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. There’s lots of things in my head right now, too.”

“You’re not rotten.” Greg gave his arm a pat, the same way he would to Wirt. “But you are confusing. It’s okay that you’ve got lots of things in your head, but it’s not okay to make my brother cry. I know you didn’t do it on purpose. I know you’re not mean and wouldn’t do that. You’re probably trying to protect him or take care of him in your own way, ‘cause that’s what you do, but you’re doing it _wrong_.”

Greg clenched his fists, the urgency in his voice rising. “You’re making it so I have to protect him from you and I don’t want to do that ‘cause he loves you. And I love you. But Wirt’s so much happier than he used to be and I don’t want to see him get sad like that again, so if that means I have to protect him from you, then I will. Because I love him, too. I’ll do anything for him.

“So you can’t make him cry anymore, okay?” Greg’s lower lip quivered as he blinked back the tears welling up in his eyes, his chin held high as he attempted to maintain his stern expression, failing miserably because he was seven and scared. “I don’t want to have to protect him from you. I want to protect him _with_ you. I don’t want you to go away forever, and I don’t want you to be sad either. I love you, and I want you to stay my big brother, Dipper.”

It made him feel more rotten, shoulders sagging as he watched the boy crumble. He sat completely, pulling Greg into his lap to hold tight. “I... I’m sorry, Greg, really. I’m just-” He squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to find reassurances. “I don't want you to feel like you have to protect him from me. I know I’m doing it wrong, though. I handled things all wrong. I never should have run off earlier, and I’m not going to do it again. I never want to make him cry. I-”

He pressed his lips together, leaning back to look at him. “Will you keep a secret for me? Something just for us little brothers, so you can’t even tell Mabel.”

Greg sniffled, rubbing his eyes to keep from crying still. He did perk up at the thought of sharing a secret with Dipper as he pet the older boy’s shoulder. But he wasn’t entirely convinced. “Is it something her or Wirt should know?” he asked, more cautious than anything. “Like if you have a deadly disease that a dangerous spy put the antibodies for in your food and now you only have seventy-two hours to find the cure and that’s why you’re cranky? Because I think that’s something they should know.”

“If it was something like that, I'd say so. And, well, it probably won't stay secret since- Look, Greg, if it was some jerk who made Mabel cry, I'd want to know what was going on. So…”

His cheeks puffed briefly. “I'm scared. Some of the stuff in my head makes me afraid that Wirt's going to hate me. And I really don't want that to happen because - this is the secret part - I love him. I love him a lot, Greg. And it's not like anything I've ever felt before. So I'm scared and just not handling things the way I should be. He and I talked, though, so I know it'll be better. I'll be better, okay?”

Greg looked at him for a long moment, his mind turning this over. “Okay,” he murmured after a beat, tilting his head to one side. “I’m sorry you’re scared. Do you want me to help you fight the things in your head? I’ll do it. Wirt can help, too. He can be brave sometimes. When he needs to be. I think he’d do it for you.”

“It’s not always easy to fight mental things, but I really appreciate the offer.” He pushed his hat back, offering a smile that filled his eyes after days of not quite reaching. “A lot of it’s bad memories and awful dreams that I’ve been hiding from him, but I promised him I’d stop that. I’m going to give him a chance to be brave for me, Greg. You just be patient. Everything’s going to be fine.” He shook his head. He’d been saying fine for days with no results. “Better than fine. Everything’s gonna be great.”

There was a lightness in Greg’s chest at the honest smile, the heavy weight of worry and uncertainty easing. Dipper wasn’t a jerk, he wasn’t rotten. He was scared and he didn’t mean to make Wirt upset. And he was sorry. Greg knew firsthand and secondhand that bad dreams and memories could really rattle someone.

Greg wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tightly. “Is that a rock fact?” he mumbled into his shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay?”

“It’s a rock fact. One of the true ones.” Dipper rocked him, soothing them both. “I have to be, right? I haven’t forgotten about the frog hunt I promised you, and I’ve got a surprise for you. So I’ll be okay.”

“I don’t need frog hunts or surprises, even if those are pretty nice. I just need you and Wirt to be okay and for you to still want to be like my big brother.” Greg rubbed his face against his chest, enjoying the comfort for what it was before lifting his head. “But what’s the surprise?”

“You’ll find out the surprise next time we’re here.” Dipper grinned, ducking down to rub their cheeks together affectionately. “Just so you know, I’m completely on board with being like your big brother. You’re the best little brother a guy could ask for.”

“If I didn’t already have a best big brother, then you’d be mine, too, but you can be my next best big brother,” he told him, then gave his cheek a kiss. “Thank you for talking to me, Dipper. I’m sorry if I upset you, but I promised you I’d look after Wirt and I take that promise very seriously.” He placed his hand over his heart to show just how serious.

“That’s why you’re the best little brother.” Dipper ruffled his hair. “And you didn’t upset me. It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re not mad at me.”

Greg shook his head. “If it was on purpose though, that’d be another story. But you didn’t know you’d upset him, so it’s okay. Sometimes it’s hard to tell with Wirt.”

Speaking of his brother, Greg glanced around to see if he could spot him and Mabel. They were a ways away, closer to the wall, probably talking about their Uncle Endicott’s grave. Greg watched them a minute, relaxing when Wirt smiled easily at Mabel and gestured about as he told a story, probably about what he’d been doing with Beatrice while Greg had been on his ghost hunt with the eccentric tea baron and Fred the talking horse.

He met Dipper’s gaze. “Did Wirt ever tell you about our Uncle Endicott? That’s where we were right before we found you and Mabel and Waddles! Come on, I’ll tell you about his huge, old mansion on our way over to where his grave is. Oh! And that’s where I had my very first ghost hunt! There wasn’t actually a ghost, but that’s not the point.” He climbed out of his lap and held his hands out to him as if he could help him up.

Dipper took his hands, but rolled to his feet of his own volition. Could there even be ghosts, he wondered, amongst the dead? He kept one of Greg’s hands in his, giving it a squeeze. “He hasn’t, no. How huge was it?”

“Huge enough that he didn’t even realize he built his mansion right into somebody else’s! The ghost was actually a lady that lived in the mansion attached to his! Wirt figured it out.” Greg puffed up his chest, a personal pride emanating from him. “He figured out that the architecture was from two different things! Um… time periods, I think. He said one was Georgian and one was French Rococo. I don’t know what that means, but Wirt knows a lot of stuff about the insides and outsides of buildings, so I trust his judgment.”

“He’s a smart guy, our Wirt.” He swung their hands, lifting his free one in a thumbs-up when Mabel looked their way. She returned it with a grin, then happily bumped her hip to Wirt’s. “So what did Uncle Endicott and the lady who wasn’t a ghost do when they realized they were sharing a mansion?”

“They started kissing,” Greg replied matter-of-factly. “I think they got married. Or at least joined their two tea companies into one big tea company. Oh! And they each gave me a penny because they said I have good sense, but they were wrong. I threw them into the fountain and then I had no cents at all. That’s why Wirt and Beatrice tried to get pennies from you and Mabel.” The grin he wore revealed he was quite pleased with himself as he swung their arms together before letting go of Dipper’s hand to run over to Wirt. “Isn’t that right, Wirt?”

“Absolutely,” he agreed, stooping down to catch him, any reservations he had about Greg and Dipper talking cleared by seeing their respective good moods. Wirt lifted him up, making a face when the younger boy squeezed his cheeks. “What are we talking about?”

“How I’ve got no cents.”

“Then I stand by my original assessment. Absolutely.”

Dipper shook his head with a smile, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops as he rocked back on his heels. “Hey, I want to keep the - y’know, the thing for next time a surprise. Okay?”

Curiosity piqued, relief blowing through her as both of her little brothers seemed in better spirits, Mabel poked his chest. “What thing?”

“You’ll find out next time.”

“How about we find out now and pretend that we actually found out next time?” Greg attempted to negotiate while Wirt tipped him upside-down.

“That’s not how it works, Greg.” Wirt looked up from his little brother and flashed Dipper an understanding smile. “Besides, you’ll like this secret surprise. I promise.”

“I bet I’ll like it just as much knowing about it now as I would if you waited to tell me.”

“Greg’s very wise, you know. Beyond his years, even. You should just tell us,” Mabel insisted. It was partly to see how her twin would react. If he was the same as he’d been the past few days, he would get annoyed at the pressure and snap at them. When he laughed, she patted her heart. It was going to be okay.

“No way, man. You’re just gonna have to wait, both of you.”

“Well, how come Wirt gets to know?”

“He’s cuter than you.”

Greg wiggled until Wirt had him rightside-up again, then observed him quietly. Wirt’s smile faded some under his brother’s scrutiny. He’d seemed fine, they both did. Dipper and Greg. Whatever they’d talked about had been good for them, hadn’t it?

“I don’t see it,” Greg finally announced. “I think me and Mabel are way cuter than Wirt.”

The worry that had started to seep in ebbed, the older brother unimpressed with him as he set him back down. “Thanks, Greg,” he drawled while Greg giggled.

“Just speaking the truth.”

“His opinion's biased, Greg.” Mabel skipped to her twin, poking his cheeks. “Our cuteness is unbeatable.”

“Your ego maybe.”

Wirt huffed out a laugh as he offered his hand to Greg. The youngest member of their group glanced from it to his face, then shook his head before running over to reach for Mabel’s instead. So apparently he was deemed recovered enough to stand on his own, well, that was good. Wirt’s lips quirked up, relieved that his little episode earlier hadn’t worried Greg too much. Worry and his little brother didn’t fit together at all. He needed to be better about freaking out around him. He was the older brother after all. He was the one who needed to do the taking care of.

His gaze flickered to Dipper. If he was wanted, in any case. He reached for him instead, letting his boyfriend make the choice to twine their fingers together or not. “So, think you’re up for going over the wall?”

“Yeah.” The choice wasn’t in lacing their fingers. That happened easily, his smile slight and grateful at being accepted. The choice came in knowing exactly where they were going and how to get there and setting it aside. “Lead the way, pilgrim.”

Wirt’s smile grew as he squeezed his hand, indeed leading the way a half-step ahead of him. “Welcome to Lakeville, city of lakes. I’m Wirt and I’ll be your tour guide. On your left you’ll see the back wall of the Eternal Garden cemetery where rumor has it that two brothers went over it last Halloween and crossed into the mysterious world of The Unknown.

“Since this is an interactive tour,” he tugged Dipper a little closer and gave him a wink that was both parts suggestive and incredibly cheesy, “we will be following the very path they supposedly took, so some climbing will be involved. But don’t worry, I’m here to provide any and all assistance you may require.” The teasing glimmer in his eyes softened along with his smile. “I mean it.”

Wirt was just too cute. And sweet. He was incredibly, completely sweet, and Dipper melted. He shifted the bill of his cap to the side and bobbed up to brush their lips together. “I know you do. I trust you.”

Wirt wanted to believe that. He wanted to take a chance and believe it. So he did. “I know you do,” he replied. “I know.”


	13. Chapter 13

They were back on their normal sides, Dipper having simply been unable to get comfortable. It hadn’t been like earlier when he’d been too tired and just too vulnerable to argue. The tired had still been there, but he’d been feeling better. He’d been absolutely determined to feel better.

He’d laughed more letting his “tour guide” lead the way than he had in days. He’d been able to show off his tree climbing to a very proud Greg. He’d been able to talk to his sister without it devolving into bickering.

He was better. Telling Wirt just a little bit had done wonders, so he was fine on his side. He would be. He’d keep Wirt safe like he was supposed to, however ridiculous it was to think he might need protecting as they slept.

His determination, though, didn’t hold much power in the mindscape. When two rolled around, so did his nightmares.

It was as clear as if it were currently happening. Clearer, really, because the daze of bloodloss and the concussion he had been suffering at the time seemed distant. Gideon was pacing in front of him, eyes empty. Eyes soulless. He waved the memory gun, he shrieked, and even though a part of him knew it was a dream, Dipper struggled helplessly to get away.

When Gideon sat on him and pushed his bangs back, laughing at the constellation-shaped birthmark on his forehead, Dipper writhed in his attempts to get away, tossing his head to keep his grubby fingers off his face.

For a moment, he was seven years old again. For a moment, it was bullies pinning him down instead of ropes, and it was a permanent marker being dragged across the lines while he screamed and begged to be left alone.

“Connect the dots, star-boy!”

“Star face!”

“It looks stupid!”

In the next instant, he was in the boys’ bathroom, scrubbing his forehead until it was red and raw but the black lines wouldn’t go away they wouldn’t go away _go away go away -_

He cried out when it was a blade. It dug into his flesh, sinking in and tearing. As blood rolled down his face, he didn’t pass out as he had in the basement. He felt it. The one instant of searing pain he’d felt in reality expanded in the dream. He felt every single bit of that blade and couldn’t move a muscle as his body contorted, lips parted in a soundless scream.

He couldn’t escape, just as he hadn’t been able to escape weeks before.

When Gideon finally climbed off of him, the blade clattering to the floor and Dipper blinded by his own bloodied tears, he felt a sick sense of relief that melted instantly into horror.

His vision cleared, but he could only watch as Gideon entered “breathing” onto the screen, aimed, and fired. His breath caught when it struck its mark. He started to scream and struggle in earnest because there had to be a way to stop this. There had to be a way to save him. This time. This night. He’d do it. It was his dream. He could control it. He could save the man in his mind if not in real life.

Gideon’s mad laughter filled his ears, and Dipper sobbed as the binds tightened around his wrists. They bit into his skin, making him cry out, and the man was suddenly right in front of him.

Dipper shook his head, tried to squeeze his eyes shut and turn away, but he could only stare as his skin turned paler and paler and then bluer and bluer until he was collapsing into Dipper’s lap. He reached for help and Dipper was powerless to do anything but stare at his eyes as the life in them faded.

When he felt the butte of the gun against his temple, he couldn’t look away from those empty, dead eyes. He knew it was happening. He’d had this dream before.

But it wasn’t Gideon’s voice this time. It was Wirt who softly whispered, “Your turn,” and pulled the trigger, and Dipper awoke choking on sobs.

He immediately bit into his knuckle, forcing them away, forcing them down. He was louder than normal and he couldn’t wake Wirt. He couldn’t bother him. He should just go. He needed to get some air, get out, write it down.

But his heart was hammering and his chest was still heaving, so he had to wait. Fight or flight pinned him, and he listened to the clocks and waited for them to settle him down enough for him to get up and run.

It wasn’t working, at least not as quickly as normal. His breathing slowed, but his heart was still racing wildly and all he could see was Wirt pulling a trigger. Disappointed in him. Giving up on him.

He rolled onto his side, rolled away from his boyfriend to get up. He could get it all written down, go for an actual run instead of just a walk, and he’d be fine again. He would be. He’d be fine.

With a little wheeze, Dipper rolled onto his other side and reached for safety. He wanted to be better than fine. “Wirt?” he whispered.

“I’m here,” was whispered back and Wirt shifted closer. “I’m here, Dipper. You’re safe.”

Caught in a restless, thin veil of sleep, it hadn’t taken much to stir Wirt into waking, the sobs and shaking more than enough. He’d seen him struggle, seen him try to leave and Wirt had almost reached for him then, but it was Dipper’s choice. He wasn’t going to take that from him. So when he reached for him, willingly and frightened and in need of whatever Wirt had to offer, he offered him everything. He folded his arms around Dipper, feeling the tremors in his fingertips as he drew him against his chest.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, rubbing his back in soothing circles. “You’re safe, Dipper.”

He didn’t feel safe, not yet. The dream still clawed at him, the walls of the darkened bedroom were suffocating him, and his heart wouldn’t slow down. He tried holding his breath, hands alternating between gripping and petting his boyfriend. The embrace wasn’t stifling; it was the only thing keeping him in that room.

Like ropes had kept him in a basement.

His breath whooshed out, the sound broken and helpless as he tried to simultaneously snuggle closer and strain away. He ended up having an odd sort of spasm, a hand flying to his bangs to yank hard. “Wirt,” he whispered, chest heaving anew. “Wirt, please, don’t just- I can’t-”

“Sorry.” Arms that wanted to tighten fell away, leaving only his hands resting on his shoulder and chest, over the frantically beating heart. “I’m sorry. I won’t- what do you need? Just tell me what you need and we’ll do it. It’s okay, Dipper. It’s going to be okay.” Wirt’s chest ached at the sight of him yanking on his bangs, cowering in the dark, so he reached over him for the hat on the bedpost and secured it on his head. “Here. Here, it’s okay. No one’s going to look at it.”

“No, no, don’t let go, don’t go, don’t leave me alone.” His words seemed to trip over themselves, hands switching from yanking at his hat to tugging at Wirt. His mind was jumbled, dissolving into his dream because he was just too exhausted to keep it at bay, and those eyes were on him again.

“The walls- Don’t make me stay. Don’t leave me alone. Make him stop _looking at me_!”

“Okay, okay!” Heart hammering, Wirt glanced around quickly. What was on his walls? What was scaring him? Looking at him? A shiver ran through him, the feeling of being watched creeping on him suddenly, but he shook it away. _Focus, Wirt._ Dipper was unravelling in front of him and he had to do something. He was relying on him.

“I’m not going to leave you. Ever. Come here.” He sat up, taking Dipper with him, one arm around his waist to support him. “We won’t stay. We’ll go together, okay? We’ll go away from him so he can’t look at you.”

Dipper went for walks to clear his head. There weren’t any walls outside. Murmuring reassuring nothings to him, Wirt kept them pressed together as he worked on sliding them out of bed. In his state a walk would be near impossible, but they could go outside at least. They could manage that.

“Lean on me. Yeah, just like that. I’ve got you, Dipper. Not gonna let you fall.” Or bump into the door or the wall, Wirt reflected as he guided Dipper into the hall, bearing most of his weight. He hushed him gently as they passed Greg’s room, his panicked breathing fine enough just as long as he didn’t cry out again until they got outside.

The cool air was an immediate balm, Dipper gulping in air and letting himself be nudged out the front door and onto the porch steps. He clung to Wirt’s nightshirt, but his gaze went to the night sky above. No more walls. There were stars. There hadn’t been stars in the basement. There hadn’t been Wirt in the basement.

He pressed his face into Wirt’s side, dislodging his hat in the process, but he had to get close. “He made me watch. It’s all I see. I can’t- I don’t want to see it anymore. He won’t stop looking at me.”

“You’re not there anymore, Dipper. It’s okay, you don’t have to watch. You don’t have to see.” Wirt hugged him, pressing his lips to the top of his head because he couldn’t help it. He had to give him something.

Petting his side, Wirt eased the two of them down. On the steps, he sat with his legs on either side of Dipper, keeping him protected, guarded on three sides with the freedom for him to escape open in front of him. His arms stayed around him, but he’d let him go if he only asked. He’d do anything he wanted. Be anything he needed.

Dipper shook his head, trying to hide away by pressing as close into that protection as possible. But he couldn’t close his eyes. He couldn’t bury himself away completely because bloodshot, bulging eyes followed him. Breath hitching, the words tumbled out before he could stop them. Before, really, he even realized they were on his tongue. “People can’t suffocate by holding their breaths. If you’re that determined, you pass out. But then your brain kicks in and tells your lungs to get back to work, and you wake up with a headache. But if the brain’s compromised, it-”

He stopped, the words finally reaching his ringing ears. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t say it. It was so wrong to put this on Wirt. It didn’t matter. It would go away. It should’ve gone away. It wouldn’t go away, so he had to trust his boyfriend.

Swallowing hard, he gripped tighter and hoped Wirt wouldn’t push him away. _Don’t hate me. Don’t hate me. Don’t hate me._

“Gideon put ‘breathing’ into the ray, and I watched- I saw- His brain _forgot_ , and he- I couldn’t do _anything_. I couldn’t move. I just had to watch, and- Oh, my god, I watched him die, Wirt. That’s all I see. He looked so shocked, and his eyes just- They _faded_ and he was _looking at me_! I let someone die. I let him die. I watched him die.”

He cringed, braced and ready for the worst. “I’m _sorry_. It’s all my fault, and I’m so sorry.”

“What-?” It wasn’t what Wirt was expecting to hear, not even close. All this time it hadn’t been his own injuries he’d been reliving, but someone else’s? Feeling guilty over being incapacitated and unable to help them? Watching someone _die_?

Oh, god. Dipper had watched someone die. Someone forgot how to breathe and suffocated right in front of him.

Horror couldn’t even begin to describe what chilled his veins. “Dipper-”

Words caught in his throat, trapped by his inability to imagine this. He’d watched someone die, forget to breathe and just die. He knew the other criminal in the basement had died, Wirt had seen his body, but he had no idea how and hadn’t bothered giving it a second thought at the time because taking care of Dipper, getting him out, keeping him safe had been so much more important. It took priority. But had he even considered that Dipper had seen what had happened to him? Even for a second? He couldn’t remember and the guilt twisted with the horror and the sorrow.

He tucked him in close, hugging him tighter, as if by enveloping him with as much of his body as possible he could keep that memory away for just a little bit. Keep things from hurting him. Stop him from being looked at by the eyes of a dying man. How could he have been forced to watch that? Seeing the light leave a person’s eyes, unnaturally at the mercy of one single memory. One simple thing every person was supposed to be born knowing how to do - breathing.

A man stopped breathing and Dipper had been tied to a post, bruised and bleeding and broken. What could he have done? How could he think it was his fault? How had Wirt not realized the dead man in the corner had died in front of Dipper?

And Dipper had kept it to himself this whole time, somehow keeping it together, then Wirt went and picked a fight with him over it when he faltered just a bit and… how could he have done that while Dipper was dealing with this? Replaying it over and over again, surely, like a puzzle. Like there might’ve been some way to stop it, criminal or not. No one deserved to die like that. No one deserved to watch someone die like that.

“It wasn’t your fault, Dipper. You know that, right?” He squeezed him tighter, voice breaking along with his heart. “It wasn’t. I’m so sorry you had to see that, but you can’t think it was your fault. Please don’t blame yourself. _Please_ don’t do that to yourself.”

“We could’ve gone the day before. I knew the day before. It could’ve been okay. We could’ve stopped it then, and then none of it would’ve happened. Or- Or I could’ve been faster. I got out of the rope after - _after_ when I could’ve done it faster. And then- I could’ve stopped it. I should’ve stopped it. I failed. It doesn’t matter who the guy was. Nobody should die like that, and Gideon held me down and made me watch and then he-”

He twisted his hat, not quite ready to think of his own pain. “He killed him because I wasn’t good enough to stop it. I’m not good enough for so much, don’t hate me, I’m not good enough for you, I let it happen.” He couldn’t bring himself to draw away, but buried his face into his own hands.

“That’s not true. That’s not true at all, Dipper!” Wirt pressed his forehead to the cap, the material chafing as he rubbed against it. “Nobody should die like that, you’re right, but there was nothing you could do, and not because you’re not good enough. It’s because Gideon’s a wretched, hideous human being. That’s why he died. Not because of what you could or couldn’t do, but because _Gideon_ killed him. It’s his fault. It’s his, it’s not yours. It’s not your fault.”

Wirt’s breath hitched as he blinked back tears. He had to keep going and stay strong for him even while Dipper’s self-deprecation twisted like a knife in his chest. He refused to let go, refused to risk giving him the opportunity to flee when this was what he was feeling.

“You saved my brother. You saved the town. You saved people that day, Dipper. You did. And I’m sorry you couldn’t save him, for your sake, but that doesn’t mean you’re not good enough for me. You are. You are good enough. You’re mine. You’re mine, you’re all I want.”

Dipper wanted to believe it, was desperate to. He let his hands fall, clinging to Wirt instead. Gaze lifting, he searched the teary one for anything at all that went against the words. He shuddered, shoulders sagging because there was nothing but honesty and an urgency to make him believe it. He was wanted. He was still wanted, and he wasn’t blamed.

Guilt was still there for him, would likely never be entirely erased, but something clicked. Something healed. Wirt still wanted him. “All of me?” he breathed.

“All of you,” Wirt echoed, taking the opportunity to cradle his face in his hands, the need for him to believe him crucial. “Completely. Irrevocably. We traded, remember? Me for you. You for me. You still have me, which means I still have you and I have no intention of ever letting go, okay?”

Trust was a trap Dipper had fallen into before, and it had never ended well for him. He’d trained himself out of it over the years. He knew better than to trust, but he could feel himself falling into it. If Wirt wanted everything, he’d give him everything. “After... You know, after. He pulled out this little blade and started taunting me about the spell. He cut off the last line and sat on me and just... He was crazy. I know he was crazy, crazier than he’d ever been before. But I still didn’t expect him to... He just pushed up my bangs like he knew it was there - the birthmark. I grew them out to hide it when I didn’t have my hat, but they didn’t help. It was like he _knew_. He was going to kill me, too, but he...”

Fingers untangled from Wirt’s shirt, trembling as they removed the pine tree hat. “Will you look at it? I want you to see it.”

“Are you sure?” Wirt stroked his thumbs over his pale cheeks, gaze firm as he searched Dipper’s.

He blew out a shaky breath, uncertainty prickling along his skin and skipping his heartbeat. His much slower, normal heartbeat. Dipper hadn’t realized it had happened, couldn’t pinpoint when his desperation had eased, but he knew the source of the calm.

“No, I’m not sure,” he admitted, pushing his bangs back anyway. “But I trust you.”

Wirt didn’t look up for a long moment, his gaze firmly rooted to Dipper’s. It wasn’t even a question of temptation. This was personal to Dipper, so if he realized that he needed to back out, then he was giving him that chance, trust or not. He wouldn’t blame him. When he only continued to hold his bangs back, Wirt slowly glanced up, maintaining his best poker face - which admittedly was pretty horrible, he wore his heart on his sleeve and everyone knew it - as his eyes traced the darkened lines.

He’d seen the mark so briefly in The Unknown, he almost couldn’t remember it. The general shape of course, it was hard not to notice such a famous constellation, but the details were a bit fuzzy. Still, he knew it hadn’t looked as malicious. It had been softer, natural, a part of him that he’d been born with. _The sweetness of your soul incapable of being contained within you; it had to leave an imprint on your skin._ Now it was marred with scar tissue, thick lines of ill-intent, meant to cause him pain. Carved in with a knife.

His heart clenched for him, ached and cracked under the weight of knowing what this meant for him. Wirt brushed his lips against the farthest point on the handle, retracing the mark with his mouth as he made sure to kiss every corner. Each point he adored.

It was stupid. It was poetry, the idea that being the last person to follow these lines would somehow make it less of a burden, but he knew that wasn’t true. That wasn’t how it worked. But he’d be damned if he didn’t make sure that he’d be the last person Dipper felt tracing his birthmark regardless.

Dipper’s breath caught at the gentle, unexpected contact. It shivered down his spine, then flooded him with warmth. He hadn’t cried yet through this, had kept himself together. But the gentle, loving attention broke him down. For the first time since he’d been very young, his secret shame felt special. Tears welled and spilled over, almost unnoticed. “Wirt...”

With the last kiss lingering between them, Wirt eased back just as he felt the dampness against his fingers. Eyes rounding, his lips parted on a startled gasp and he met his gaze to immediately apologize - what was he thinking, that was too forward, too private, he had no right - but sorry vanished off the tip of his tongue. The tears glistening in Dipper’s eyes didn’t reflect pain or anguish like he expected. He was awed.

Wirt was just as stunned by him, his face in the moonlight, framed by his hands. His trust freely given. In that moment that the two of them shared only with the stars above, Wirt felt Dipper’s trust as much as he felt the wooden steps beneath him or the summer night air on his skin or the warmth returning to Dipper’s cheeks under his hands. His heart soaked it up, greedy and desperate to cling to this, to remind him in case of future doubts that it was possible, so completely possible for this captivating soul to trust him without hesitance.

_Oh my gosh, I love you._ The thought came without hesitance as well and Wirt’s lower lip trembled before he leaned in to press it to Dipper’s, seeking to soothe any lingering sorrows with his kiss. A second one followed on its heels, eager to do the same as the first, but with the addition of giving him some understanding of the rush that filled him.

Dipper reached out for him, doing his best to press closer. To absorb everything Wirt was willing to give and to give just as much back. He wasn’t hated. He wasn’t blamed. He was cared about, wanted. The love he hadn’t thought could grow further swelled, unburdened by the fear a lack of trust had wrought. This was better. This was right.

“You mean everything to me,” Dipper whispered when the second broke, letting their brows rest together. Not to hide. He wouldn't hide the birthmark from Wirt again, but to be close.

Wirt’s hands skimmed down to his shoulders, fingers ghosting over his arms until they reached his waist. He stroked his sides, feeling his breath fluttering within him, heart beating steady and strong. No longer the shivering, terrified boy bundled in his arms for safety, Wirt clutched at him anyway. His arms wrapped around his waist and clung to his shirt, wanting the closeness just as much.

“You too,” he breathed, nuzzling him while his eyes closed in contentment. “Dipper, my Dipper. ‘Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths, enwrought with golden and silver light... the blue and the dim and the dark cloths of night and light and the half-light... I would spread the cloths under your feet. But I, being poor, have only my dreams. I have spread my dreams under your feet. Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.’” It wasn’t a poem of his own design, but the words flowed freely, hushed for his ears.

Dipper didn’t know nor care if the words were Wirt’s or borrowed from an outside source. Like spells, it was the emotion that mattered. He wasn’t a poet by any means, but it was emotion that guided Dipper’s words, letting them flow, smooth and soft as satin, off his tongue. “I love you, Wirt.”

His eyes opened as his heart stirred. “What?” Hardly daring to speak above a whisper, as if it would shatter the illusion that this surely was. But it felt real. He was looking into his eyes, they were still clinging to each other, their foreheads touching, and Dipper’s words still echoed in his ears, his very soul trembling from them. “You do?”

“Yeah, I do. I love you.” Dipper started to tip forward to kiss him again, but hesitated. “That’s okay, right? You’re not- I mean, you don’t have to say it back or anything. I know it’s fast. I just wanted you to know.”

“I…” Wirt blinked slowly, breath catching. “Yeah, it’s… it’s more than okay. It’s- you love me? You love me…”

_I love you, too._ It was right there in his throat, bobbing along with his Adam’s apple as he swallowed thickly, because how could he not? Wirt hugged him, arms locked around him, and his lips parted for the words, but…

They didn’t fall. They didn’t even form on his tongue and the only sound that spilled out was a small, squeak-like noise thanks to the cracking of his voice. _I love you, too._ He felt it, didn’t he? Sure, it was really soon, but love was love and he’d just thought it himself, he’d just _felt_ it. Not for the first time either, he’d felt it before.

He loved him, too. He loved him, too. _I love you, too._ He didn’t have to say it, but he wanted to. He didn’t have to feel it, but he _did_. “I-” His throat closed on him, the window of opportunity passed, he'd taken too long. “Dipper-” he choked, pressing into him as the words filled him simultaneously with joy and disbelief and dread.

Dipper loved him and he couldn’t say it back.

“Wirt? Are you-? Sorry. I shouldn’t have-” Tension crept back in, Dipper flinching. Of course it was too fast. But he lived at the insane pace Gravity Falls inspired, and Wirt moved at sleepy Lakeville pace. He’d gone too far. “I know it’s too fast, and it’s crazy. But I didn’t say it to- I’m not trying to freak you out. I just love you. It’s not- I mean, it’s- But- I’m sorry. I’ll stop saying it. You don’t want to hear it.”

“No, that’s not-!” Wirt felt the flinch and hated himself for making it happen. “I never thought I’d hear it- but that’s not what- I’m- I want to. I want to say it, Dipper. I want to hear and I want to say because I feel-”

Fumbling over his own words, eloquence lost as his heart hammered in his chest. Why couldn’t he just say it? He never had problems waxing poetry at any and all hours, nervous babbling one of his worst habits, surely he could’ve offered him something. Wirt tugged on his shirt, then smoothed it out, hands quivering, before grabbing on again.

He wasn’t an action sort of guy, but he pressed their lips together, clumsy and desperate for understanding. He wanted to give Dipper some kind of understanding. The kiss softened as he steadied himself against him, losing the hard, demanding edge until it became small, gentle brushes. “I want to hear it. I want to say it,” he managed to murmur. “I’m sorry. I want to. I want to, I promise.”

Dipper struggled to get that ease back, each light kiss loosening the knot in his system. “You don’t- You really don’t have to. It’s okay. You-” It was enough to know he wanted to say it. It was enough that he pulled him closer instead of pushing him away. His hands lifted, cupping Wirt’s cheeks. “Take it like... like a gift, I guess. I don’t want anything back. I just want you to know. It’s okay if you don’t say it right now. Just...” He rubbed their noses together, deciding to take him at his word. If it was okay... “I love you.”

Wirt exhaled shakily, heart swelling anew as the words washed over him. “Will you… will you say it again?” he asked, swallowing as his gaze turned timid.

“I love you.” His lips curved slowly. Now that they were out, the words came easily for him. His thumbs caressed gentle circles on Wirt’s face. “I really, really love you. I’ll tell you a million times if you want.”

“I don’t know if my heart could handle that. It already feels like it’s overflowing.” Wirt managed a smile of his own, tilting his head to rub his lips to Dipper’s palm.

Dipper loved him. He was loved. He never thought someone like him could be chosen, someone who’d gone through most of their life trying to be invisible, trying to remain unnoticed, to go from day to day without affecting anyone. Yet here was a boy, a perfect, beautiful, selfless boy sitting on his porch in the moonlight telling him he loved him. How had he affected Dipper Pines? How could he love him?

How could he not tell him that he loved him back?

Wirt pushed the niggling insecurities aside, pressing a firmer kiss to his hand. A gift. He’d take it like a gift. Soon he would be able to offer one in return. “Don’t know what I did to deserve you.” Lips quirked up more as his gaze glimmered with adoration.

Feeling a little silly for it but unable to help himself, Dipper rubbed the palm to his heart before wrapping his arms around Wirt and tucking his chin onto his shoulder. Panic had receded, leaving him feeling loose and tired. He was still afraid to sleep, so distracted himself by pressing a kiss to Wirt’s neck. It helped, too, that they were out front. “You’re just you. It’s enough.”

“Mm…” Wirt cradled him close, savoring his warmth and the sleepy softness that replaced the cold, clammy, tension coiled in his boyfriend when they stumbled out here. He kissed his temple, then the top of his head, burying his nose in his curls. “You tired?”

“Mmhm.” His fingers curled and uncurled. “But I can’t... The nightmares just come back, and the second one’s always worse.”

Wirt nodded. “Okay. That’s okay, we don’t have to go to sleep yet then. We’ll stay out here for a bit longer.”

He tilted his head, resting his cheek atop Dipper’s head as he rubbed his back to soothe. His gaze flicked up, caught by the spread of stars glittering above them. The wide, open space, sky dark enough without the city lights to dampen the ones blinking at them from miles away. Free.

Wirt blinked. He had an idea. “Hey, being out here helps, right? You don’t feel trapped?”

He started to nod, but didn’t want to bother him. “Yeah. It’s... Yeah.”

“I want to try something.” Wirt moved of his own volition, easing up his hold on him and leaning back to smile at him. “It involves a little relocation, but that’s just because I think it would work better in the backyard. Would that be okay?”

Dipper bit his lip, but nodded. Wirt hadn’t let him down so far. “Sure, man.”

Cupping his cheek with one hand and feeling around for the pine tree cap with the other, Wirt pressed his lips to his forehead, then tugged the hat over his hair. “Go on ahead. I need to grab some things from inside, then I’ll meet you out back.”

“Okay. Um.” It was an odd thing, seeking comfort. Having someone in his life who was actually willing to give it. “You won’t be too long, right?”

“Shouldn’t be. But uh… you can come with me if you want. I mean, it doesn’t really have to be a surprise or anything.” He shifted back one step, stretching out his legs before pushing up to stand, offering a hand to help Dipper up after him. “Just making a stop in my room and another at the linen closet. Maybe the living room, too. It depends. Do you like a lot of pillows?”

“Yeah.” It didn’t take a genius to connect those dots. Dipper took his hand, holding on even once he’d stood. “I can wait out back, though. I’m not really... I don’t want to be inside unless you need me.”

“I think I can manage.” Wirt flashed him a reassuring smile and pecked his cheek while he gave his hand a squeeze. “I’ll be there soon. That’s a rock fact.”

Once they parted, Wirt hurried back to his bedroom. Fumbling in the dark, he felt his way to the bed and began to strip it. He balled up the sheets and comforter, hefting them up in his arms before adding their pillows to the pile. Arms full, he was slower in leaving his room, to avoid blindly bumping into the wall. He paused in the hallway, dumping the bedding on the floor so he could grab one more thicker blanket from the hall closet. It was something better suited for winter, but it would work for what he wanted to do. He added it to the bundle of blankets and closed the closet quietly.

As he passed Greg’s room, he held his breath and avoided the creaky floorboards as best as he could. In the living room he struggled to add more throw pillows. Every time he grabbed something, something else would fall until all the blankets were pooled at his feet. Wirt huffed out a grumpy sigh, then set about regathering everything, pillows tucked into blankets and sheets to keep them from falling out this time.

Of course, then came the problem of opening the back door. He tried to use various parts of his body not equipped for opening doors before he gave up. Wirt peered out into the dark through the glass, then lightly tapped on it with his elbow, hoping Dipper had stayed close to the house.

He tugged it open with a nervous smile that only grew at the bundle he held. “Oh my god. I would’ve helped if I knew you were getting this much stuff. I think you may have to go back. You might have left a blanket in the house somewhere.”

“Pfft. What kind of blanket pilferer do you think I am? I did my job well. No blanket was safe.” Wirt squeezed out onto the back porch, careful not to drop his bundle, stubbornly not handing a single one to Dipper. “I got this. I’m good.”

He was. Until he missed the last step off the porch because he couldn’t see where he was walking. With a startled gasp, Wirt fell to the grass face-first, the blankets and pillows thankfully breaking his fall. His embarrassed groan was also thankfully muffled as he laid there a moment before shifting to his knees.

Dipper covered his mouth to stifle the laugh. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't. You're just really cute and really sweet for this, and I'm just tired.” He trotted down the steps after him, reaching for the squished bundle. “Here, let me help.”

“Honestly I don't blame you for laughing.” Wirt raked his fingers through his hair, embarrassment fading as he lifted his gaze to smile sheepishly. “And it's... it's good to hear. Guess I could say you swept me off my feet.” He handed him some of the pillows, leaving most of the blankets on the ground since that was where they'd end up anyway.

Cheeks burning, Dipper hid his face in one of the pillows. “I... You really are cute.” He looked up, fidgeting a bit. “I, um, I'm sorry for... I know I've been awful company the past few days. I don't deserve this.”

Wirt dusted himself off as he stood, an eyebrow quirking up as he considered him, gathering up the thickest blanket. “Of course you do. Awful company or not. Everyone has their off days, and you have a good reason for feeling the way you do. For feeling the way you have been. You went through something terrifying and messed up and... and all things considering you've been handling it _really_ well.

“And despite all that, you still managed to tell me that you love me. Heck, you love me, that alone is reason enough to do something like this for you. It's the least I can do for you. You deserve so much more. As cheesy as it sounds… if I could take all your pain from you, I would. I wish I could.”

“It’s okay. Better me going through that than you or Greg or Mabel.”

“Why?” Wirt shook out the blanket, taking the time to have it flutter evenly down over the grass. Or at least as even as he could. He smoothed out the rest himself. “I mean, Greg and Mabel, obviously, but why better you than me?”

“What do you mean ‘why?’” His brows lowered, Dipper genuinely puzzled. “I don’t want you to be dealing with the stuff I’m dealing with. That’s not- I don’t expect any of you to deal with all the stuff I do, to go where I do. I always take the hits.”

“Yeah, well… it shouldn’t have to always be you.” Wirt flicked his gaze up to him, taking in his boyfriend’s baffled expression before setting about making a little nest for them with the sheets and comforter from his bed atop the thick blanket. “I mean, I’m so grateful for what you did for Greg. I wouldn’t- I don’t want to think about what would’ve happened to him if you hadn’t grabbed him. I can’t imagine it. So I’m grateful, but at the same time, I can’t imagine what I’d do if anything had happened to _you_ either. Anything worse than what already did.

“I wish I’d grabbed Greg. He’s my responsibility, I should’ve had him. Traded places with him. You knew where to go, you would’ve gotten there a heck of a lot faster than we did. I don’t think you should hurt more to spare us. Yeah, you don’t expect us to deal with the stuff you do, but guess what? I’m going to. I want to.” Wirt grabbed another pillow to add to the nest of bedding, then held out his hand for the one Dipper was holding. “I’m going wherever you go. If you’re taking the hits, I’m taking them right beside you. Whether you want me there or not. Take it as a perk or a curse or whatever you want, but as long as you want to be with me, then that’s just what’s happening. Okay? You’re not taking all the hits anymore. And when you do, then at the very least you won’t be alone.”

It took Dipper a moment to pass the pillow over, too busy staring at him with eyes that had gone round and wide as confusion evolved into shock. “I- You can’t just- That’s not how it works. What if you get hurt?”

“Then I get hurt.” Wirt shrugged, then nodded towards him. “And why can’t that be how it works?”

“Because it’s- No one ever...” His gaze dropped to the grass, frowning as confusion replaced the surprise. “I’m the one who keeps people safe. I don’t expect anyone else to- to take care of me. That’s not how it works.”

Wirt watched him process it quietly, then tossed the pillow to join the rest, their makeshift bed complete. “Hope you’re the kind of guy that can go with the flow and adapt to new things because that’s how it’s going to work from now on. Someone has to keep you safe, too. You deserve to be taken care of just as much as anybody else.” Wirt took a few steps closer to him and offered his hand to him. “Let me?”

Dipper could only blink at the offered hand before slowly lifting his gaze to his boyfriend’s. He’d trusted him with so much already that night. His memories, his birthmark. But could he trust Wirt with himself? To be a break in the pattern he was used to? Could he trust Wirt’s strength?

He thought of the spell and his absolute faith in Wirt then to complete it, the way Wirt had been running to them to keep them safe as he shouted stanzas. Ready even then to shield him. Demanding to go with him before, when he’d first stood up from the Mystery Cart on shaking legs and the plan just forming.

He thought of trusting him at thirteen to keep him safe from a wall of rocks. He thought of Wirt grabbing his hands and yanking him to safety, holding him close even then. Wirt telling him to go home with his sister, reassuring him that it was okay to save himself first.

Dipper reached out, grabbing his hand before it could fall away, and laced their fingers. Of course he could trust him. He’d been breaking the pattern since they’d first met. “Okay. I’ll... I want you to be beside me. And in front of me if I need it. I can trust you to do that. I trust you. I love you.”

Wirt squeezed his hand as he drew him against him, answering the words with a deep kiss, with a deep promise. He could give him that. His gift in return. His protection.

“Come on. Lie down with me,” he murmured, brushing their noses together before stepping back to lead him to the blankets.

Unable to refuse him, Dipper nodded and let himself be led, let himself be cradled between Wirt’s legs as they cuddled in the little nest he’d created under the stars. For him. To make sure he wasn’t trapped. “I don’t... I don’t mind being everyone’s shield,” he said quietly, trying to explain, cheek resting over his boyfriend’s heart. “I’m still going to be yours. No one’s hurting you while I’m around. But right now... It feels like you’re mine, and I’ve never had that. No one’s ever bothered.”

“Well, I’m bothering. I’ll be your shield.” His arms locked around him, one draped around his waist, the other cupping the back of his head. “I may not be the sturdiest shield, what with me being a worrier and prone to freaking out and everything, there’s no doubt you deserve better, but… I’ll be constant. I’ll always be there. Promise.”

“I can’t deserve better when you’re already perfect. You’re sturdy enough for me.” Contentment washed through him, almost unfamiliar after not feeling it for days amongst the nightmares and tension between the two of them. His eyes drifted shut. “We’ll be each other’s, okay? Even shields need support.”

“Okay,” Wirt whispered, stroking his side, lips pressing to the top of his head as he felt the exhaustion seep into his boyfriend’s bones. “Go to sleep, Dipper. I’ll shield you tonight. I’ve got you.”

Dipper mumbled something, but was already drifting. Camped out beneath the stars, held close by his boyfriend, he felt safe, protected, loved. He didn’t need to hear the words directly to know the heart beneath his ear beat for him. They were in Wirt’s attempts to tell him, in the way he held him, in the way he promised to always be there. It was enough for Dipper to know he was loved.

It was enough to let him sleep, the rest of the night passing without another nightmare plaguing him.

 

\----

 

He hated to disturb him. His face soft and smooth with dreamless oblivion, a full night of rest crucial for his body and mind, and Wirt spent most of the gray dawn savoring it. Aside from the occasional dips into unconsciousness, broken from them with the slightest sigh or shift in the air, he’d kept watch through the rest of the night.

Wirt hadn’t minded, his head too full from all they’d tackled the night before, not to mention the trials of the day. An emotional rollercoaster, definitely. He’d been grateful for the company of stars while he huddled with Dipper in their bed of blankets. If they spent every night out here for their remaining time together, he certainly wouldn’t complain about it. Their backs may have something to say about it though. If this became a regular thing he’d have to look into more cushion for them, even if his boyfriend seemed to find a good deal of it in him. At some point they’d probably roll in their sleep.

When the sky turned pink from the encroaching sunrise, Wirt couldn’t prolong their time in the yard any longer. He placed his lips against Dipper’s brow. He didn’t have to wake completely, just enough so they could move. The sprinklers would be on soon and that would be a worse way to awaken than by the shower of kisses he laid over his face.

“‘The sun just touched the morning,’” he spoke in hushed tones along his jaw, tracing the shape of it back to his lips. “‘The morning, happy thing, supposed that he had come to dwell, and life would be all spring.’”

“Mm.” Dipper awoke seeking a kiss, the feeling unfamiliar. He was always the first one up. so wasn’t completely certain what was going on as he stirred. “Wirt,” he sighed, snuggling closer.

“Dipper,” he murmured back, granting him his unspoken request by brushing their lips together. “If I’d written that poem, I’d have said life would be all summer. And you the sun to give light to my morning. Break through my clouded mist as you rise.”

He didn’t know what Wirt was talking about, but it sounded sweet. Mind still fogged by sleep, he tugged lightly at his shirt and tried tucking his head into the crook of his neck. “Love you,” he mumbled, mouthing the words against his skin.

In the quiet of the night he’d forgotten how the words - the feelings behind the words - made him tremble in awe. His lips parted as his pulse jumped, his answer right there on the tip of his tongue, saved for morning, for a new start. He could say it here with a sleepy, snuggly Dipper in his arms, tugging on his shirt as if he wanted to burrow deeper into the warmth he had to offer. _I love you, too._

Instead he kissed the top of his head. “I know,” was all he could reply as he squeezed him. “We’ve gotta get up for a little bit, Dipper. We need to get inside before the sprinklers come on. You awake enough to walk, or do you need me to carry you?” It was only partly teasing, he reflected as he nuzzled him. He could carry him if he needed to.

“M’awake,” he mumbled, but only stretched like a lazy cat and settled right back in.

Unable to help the small chuckle, Wirt kissed him again before giving his side a pat. “I know you are. Think I’ll just carry you anyway because I want to. Come on. You can cuddle me more once we’re inside.”

He nudged him over, then helped him sit up off the blankets in the grass. Balling up the bedding and pillows, Wirt chucked it onto the porch so it would be out of the way in case it took a while to retrieve it. He’d have to wash them anyway, but he’d rather not have to deal with dragging sopping wet sheets through the house.

“Put your arms around my shoulders,” he requested as he knelt in front of Dipper, reaching back for him.

Dipper didn’t argue, clinging to him as his nose nestled into his hair. “All mine,” he mumbled, nuzzling lazily.

“I’m all yours,” Wirt agreed, heart pounding with the reminder that someone wanted him. No, not just someone. That Dipper wanted him. “For as long as you want me, I’m yours.”

“Always.”

Heart clenching, warmth flooding his veins, that one word, that simple assurance, overwhelmed him with love. Dipper’s and his own. _I love you so much._

On surprisingly steady legs, Wirt rose and kept Dipper tucked securely against his back. He’d done this before, but this time he could actually savor Dipper’s dependence on him, appreciate the weight of his body on his, his chest pressed to his back and his thighs to his forearms. This time instead of bleeding on the cusp of unconsciousness, he was murmuring sweet, sleep-drenched nothings into his hair. Things like “so pretty” and “you’re cute” and “you smell good.” Though, the more he mumbled at him, the more the warmth in his chest spread to his cheeks. It was adorable, yet untrue as he didn’t think he was particularly pretty or cute and honestly he probably smelled like grass now, but maybe Dipper thought that constituted as smelling good.

In any case, it made him loathe to leave him as he carried him into his room and lowered him to the bed, the fitted sheet still tucked around the mattress better than nothing. Still, if they were going to go back to sleep, it would probably do to have the blankets and pillows. “Be right back,” he promised, placing a kiss over one closed eye, then the other.

“M’kay,” he agreed, head tilting back. Light kisses were pressed along Wirt’s jaw. “Kiss me first.”

“I am kissing you. And you’re kissing me.” Wirt cupped his face as a pleased sound escaped him, unable to help caressing his cheeks when Dipper made it all too easy for him.

Dipper mumbled a protest, brow furrowing as he squinted his eyes open to blearily seek the lips he wanted over his. “You make my head all... floaty.”

“I think that’s the sleep doing that.” He was too cute. Too adorable for words. Wirt’s smile was adoring before he showed mercy and gave him what he wanted.

Dipper let his eyes close again, a satisfied little noise spilling into the kiss. It wasn’t just sleep that clouded his mind or made his heart play hopscotch in his chest, but he was too tired still to explain that and too contentedly affectionate to want to argue. “Mmhm. Like that. Love you lots.”

“You’re too sweet, Dipper Pines.” Wirt eased out of the kiss slowly, lapping at his lower lip before pulling away completely. “You don’t need flowery words or cheesy poems to make me fall for you. Just talk to me when you’re half-asleep.”

He didn’t fight the little giggle, but did cover the yawn as he drifted between wakefulness and sleep. “M’kay.”

Wirt nearly stumbled over himself in his haste to sneak back out to the porch to grab their bedding. He couldn’t carry everything back, so he left the big blanket in a heap in the living room with the throw pillows while he dragged his essentials back to his room. He dropped the pillows to the floor so he could take the corners of the sheet in both hands to bundle Dipper up in it, wrapping it around his shoulders. Wirt rubbed their noses together, unable to resist, not when he hadn’t had him like this for days. Complacent, sleepy in the non-sleep-deprived way. Happy.

Hurriedly, he placed the pillows at the head of the bed and grabbed the comforter. “Want to be against the wall or on your side?” he asked as he crawled onto the bed beside him, ready to spend the rest of the morning right here with him.

Neither. Dipper squinted at him just long enough to climb atop him and settle in. His face pressed into his neck, mumbles muffled by his skin. “Pretty boy, s’all mine.”

“Mm, yeah. All yours, Dipper.” Wirt’s stomach rolled with butterflies, tendrils of delight making him squirm a little while he covered them both with the comforter. When they were adequately cocooned, he slipped his arms around him and cradled him to his chest. “And you’re mine. My summer sun, my shield, my sleepy-” His words broke on a yawn, feeling exhaustion creeping on, curbed only by his own giggle when Dipper curled closer. “Sleepy kitten. You’re like a kitten, Dipper.”

He wasn’t a kitten. He pouted, but wiggled against Wirt with nothing less than affection anyway. His boyfriend’s cute giggle was enough of a deterrent from arguing the point. “Sleep,” he mumbled.

“Mmhm. Go back to sleep, Dipper.” His fingers stroked along his spine while his eyelids fluttered shut.

“Mm... mm... mm.” His pouty lips fell blindly over his neck, lingering longer and longer as sleep took over again.

Wirt missed the last few, each brush of his lips like a drug, dragging him along into sleep with him. Where Dipper pouted, Wirt’s lips curved up as he drowned in the affectionate kisses, basking in each light, soothing tickle of his breath as he was lulled to sleep in the light of early morning. They were going to be okay.

“I love you, Dipper,” he thought he’d sighed happily before drifting off, but only in dreams did the words pass his lips.


	14. Chapter 14

Wirt woke up the second he realized Dipper wasn’t in bed.

Okay, well… maybe not the second, but it was probably a minute. Maybe five minutes. His side of the bed was still warm, so it hadn’t been longer than five. Possibly ten.

It was morning, at least. The sun was on the other side of the house, but it was still bright enough in his room for him to figure that out as he sat straight up in bed, heart hammering like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. He knew what that felt like, too. Greg had tried it once. Wirt made sure that it would only be once.

Patting his chest, he blinked around his bedroom, trying to calm himself before sprinting out of the room in a panic. It had been several days since Dipper’s last nightmare - okay, he’d been counting exactly, it had been three - so the chances that something was wrong were pretty slim. Dipper’s energy had returned to more normal levels, so it only made sense that he wouldn’t want to laze about in bed for longer than he needed to, just like usual. This was usual. Normal. Fine.

Wirt was going to check on him anyway.

He slid out of bed, padding across the room to inch open his door just a sliver - in case Greg or Mabel were awake and lurking in the hall. Why they’d be lurking in the hall waiting for him didn’t really make sense, but he was still in the process of waking up - startled by the empty space beside him or not. He could have irrational theories if he wanted to.

The coast was clear, so he ventured out in search of Dipper, trying the living room and kitchen first. It didn’t take long to find him, his heart grateful for it. He heard him before he saw him, though it was quiet, mindful of the fact that most of the house was probably still asleep. It came from the kitchen, along with the smell of something burning.

Eyes widening, Wirt went to check it out, poking his head into the archway leading to the kitchen. If it was at all possible, his eyes rounded further. The kitchen was relatively safe - though their toaster was still smoking slightly - and the culprit of the burning smell was a piece of blackened toast. It looked like charcoal, it honestly did, and Dipper was spreading butter and jam on it anyway. But that wasn’t what caught his eye.

Dipper was dancing. In the middle of his kitchen. In his socks, boxer shorts, and shirt still.  Earbuds in and attached to his phone, Dipper’s hips rocked to the tinny buzz of music that Wirt could hear coming from them. And he was singing along under his breath. Murmurs of the lyrics flowing freely as he moved, taking longer than necessary to spread jam on the inedible toast from being lost in the song.

“‘I’m no fool, no, I’m not a follower. I don’t take things as they come, if they bring me down…’” he crooned.

Wirt couldn’t even blink, not wanting to miss a second of it as an adoring smile spread over his lips much easier than the jam on the toast. How could someone be simultaneously the cutest thing on the planet and the hottest? He really wasn’t sure, but Dipper managed to be both.

Not wanting to make his presence known until he absolutely had to - when Dipper tried to eat the toast, he was not going to let him actually eat that, seriously, how high did he set the toaster to? - Wirt hugged the wall, staying hidden most of the way as he watched and listened.

While he had been more at ease the past few days, Wirt was savoring every second of it, inordinately relieved every time Dipper could relax and be himself without the weight of guilt or fear crushing him. He wasn’t awake and out of bed because he had a nightmare, because he decided Wirt wasn’t worth being his shield, but because he wanted breakfast and he wanted to sing and dance to a song Wirt didn’t recognize, but loved instantly. He was going to look it up and put it on a tape first chance he got, if only so he could relive this moment every time he heard it. Messy hair, sleep-mussed clothes, carefree dancing to a carefree beat. _Oh my gosh, I love him_. His mind and heart couldn’t help feeling and thinking in sync, despite whatever was holding him back, preventing him from saying it.

“‘You know you like it, but it drives you insane…’” Sucking jam off his thumb, Dipper slid his attention from burnt toast to one of the reasons it was burnt. He nabbed his pen, placed it to a page, and nearly jumped out of his skin. A jagged line slashed across the page instead of his note, the brick masquerading as toast making an audible sound when it hit the counter.

“Oh my _god_!” He tugged an earbud out. “Oh my- Wirt-!” Surprise flipped to embarrassment on a dime, color flooding his face. “How long have you been-? Oh my god, don't even tell me.”

“Okay, I won’t.” Wirt grinned, mostly adoring still, but delighting just a bit in the way he blushed, and he eased out from around the corner to join him. “What’s the name of that song?”

“Uh. Geez, man.” He unlocked his phone with a swipe, immeasurably grateful that “Disco Girl” hadn't been on. The trap was much less embarrassing. “‘You Know You Like It.’”

“Oh yeah. I do know I like it. I like it very much.”

Wirt just had to. Especially because he let his gaze rove over his boyfriend purposefully, though the forward teasing still made his cheeks a bit pink. He dealt with it by sidling up behind Dipper to wrap his arms around his waist, nuzzling his neck. Cute, hot dancing aside, he'd still woken up without him in his arms and was determined to remedy that.

“Did you seriously just say that?” Dipper leaned back, trying and failing not to laugh. “I love you, man. Geez.” He unplugged his headphones and tossed them on the counter, his phone following after he restarted the song.

Wirt's heart fluttered at the ease with which it was said, the laughter that filled it. He gave him a squeeze as he placed a kiss right above his shirt collar. “I did seriously just say that, but I was talking about you, not the song, though it's a good song and I'm not gonna complain if you start dancing again. And singing.”

“Not happening, no way.” Though Dipper did wiggle against him, enjoying the attention. He’d known very well that the appreciation - though delivered in the cheesiest, lamest way - was for him, and it delighted him to no end.

“Why not?” Wirt laughed, making him sway with him, trying to maintain a pout as he propped up his chin on his shoulder. “I'll make you breakfast if you do.”

“I’m totally capable of making my own breakfast.” Even though it was easy to get into the beat when he was pressed against his boyfriend and whatever he made was bound to be better than burnt toast.

“Okay, you may be totally capable, but I can’t in good conscious let you eat that.” Wirt looked to the toast still on the counter. “How did that even happen? Did you set the toaster to turbo?”

“No, I left it how it was.” He shrugged. “But when it popped the first time, it wasn’t done, so I put it in a little longer. I mean, I was gonna check on it but I got distracted. I think I might know how to find Greg’s Giant Frog, so I was working that out and then I realized the toaster was a little bit on fire.”

“On fire,” Wirt echoed, gaze flitting to the smoke still fading from the appliance. The toaster was supposed to make a buzzing sound and refuse to be pushed down if the heat was too much, how had he set it on _fire_? “Okay. You’re not touching anything remotely electrical in here again. You can touch the sink and the counter and that’s pretty much it.” Wirt gave his hip a pat as he released him, grabbing the charred brick that had once been bread so he could throw it away.

“Oh my god. Now you sound like Mabel.” Dipper leaned against the counter, fingers tapping the beat of the song against his thigh. “It wasn’t even technically the toaster that was on fire. It was the bread and the toaster was just... also there.”

“Oh, so the bread caught fire all by itself?” Wirt dropped it in the garbage can, glancing at the jam that got on his fingers as a result and popped them into his mouth before waving Dipper out of the way so he could grab the bread and start over. And he thought Mabel had been exaggerating. “We should probably look into a new brand then. Or file a complaint with the manufacturer. ‘Excuse me, Pepperidge Farm, but it appears your bread catches on fire when in contact with a heating element. Something should be done about this. It’s absolutely unacceptable.’”

“Wow, man. Wow.” Dipper grabbed his phone, finding a nearby space on the counter to hop onto. Still in the mood for music, he scrolled through his files to find some of the more non-embarrassing songs. “I don’t think the kitchen’s big enough to handle this volume of sass.”

“Trust me, it’s had to put up with more than this on multiple occasions.” Double checking the toaster - just to be sure there wasn’t a secret ‘turbo’ setting - Wirt placed two slices in so he could partake in some alongside his boyfriend, then leaned his back against the counter, sliding along it until he was right up next to him. “I’m sorry. I’m tired still. You’ve seen me and mornings. But I’ll lay off and just resign myself to making the rest of your food while you’re here. When Mabel, my mom, or Jonathan aren’t, that is.”

“So basically what’s been happening.” Dipper scooted closer, resting his cheek atop Wirt’s head. “I thought you’d sleep a little longer, though. I woke up hungry and thinking about frogs, and I didn’t want to bug you.”

“It’d probably bug me more if you set the house on fire.” Wirt slid his arms around his waist. “You can always wake me up if you need something. Even if it’s just to stick bread in a toaster.”

“I know. I thought about it, but then figured nah. The plan was to eat some toast, shake out some energy and frog theories, and then climb back into bed ‘til you woke up.” He glanced at the toaster, brushing an absent kiss to Wirt’s hair. “Didn’t quite work out, but this is okay too.”

“Mm. Climbing back into bed sounds nice. I could probably go back to sleep, but I won’t do that to you.” When the toast popped up, he pressed a kiss to Dipper’s shoulder before going to fetch it. “But I am glad I woke up. Got a great show as my reward. And you get to eat something that won’t taste horrible.”

His gaze rolled towards the ceiling, color rising. “It was not a great show, oh my god.”

“I thought it was great. Definitely worth getting out of bed for and I don’t get out of bed for just anything.” Wirt flashed him a grin, then held up the knife Dipper had used. “Want the same thing you had on the first one?”

“Yeah.” Dipper watched him quietly, comfortable with the silence. Very soon, he was bouncing on the counter in the time with the drums pouring from his phone. Shoulders rocked, hips shimmied, eyes closing. The lyrics turned over in his mind and spilled off his tongue, almost unnoticed. “‘It’s driving me crazy, and you can try to lie. But you’re not gonna, not gonna deny. No, you’re not gonna, not gonna deny my love...’”

Wirt flicked his gaze over to watch him, grin fading as his lips pursed and color filled his cheeks. He was really too cute. Wirt stayed quiet to watch him, spreading a little too much jam and even missing the bread completely so he wouldn’t have to look away. When he couldn’t waste time with the jam anymore, he took both slices and slowly inched over to him, fitting into the space between his legs in front of him.

“No, I’m not,” he replied to the song’s lyric, corners of his mouth quirking up.

Dipper jumped a bit, a fresh blush dusting his cheeks, but Wirt hadn’t made fun of him yet and the little smile was irresistible. He hooked his arms over his shoulders. “‘When you close your eyes, tell me what you see. Locked up in your room, is there any room for me? In the spoils of your mercy, in the reverence of your bed, in the cradle of the morning,’” he continued, then sealed their lips together.

Wirt sank into the kiss, arms lowering to place their breakfast on the counter on either side of him to give his hands the freedom to cup Dipper’s waist. Butterflies filled him, heart ready to beat right out of his chest as the lyrics were murmured to him, along to the music’s beat, the beat that burst from the small speakers as Wirt tugged him closer, his hips and shoulders shifting to the tempting rhythm. “There’s always room for you.” Wirt’s words and breath ghosted over Dipper’s lips before he angled his head for another kiss. “I like this song, too.”

Dipper busied himself with kissing back, fingers catching in his nightshirt, and didn’t respond until it ended and he could rub their noses together. He smiled when Wirt’s scrunched. “I’ll give you the files.”

“Okay. And I’ll give you toast.” He rubbed his sides, then picked up one of the slices to offer it to him. “And space in my bed.”

He laughed, leaving his fingers curled in Wirt’s shirt. “What would I do without you, man?” Expression a little wicked, he leaned forward and took a bite.

“Be forced to eat burnt things and sleep on the floor,” he quipped, grinning even as his cheeks warmed from the glint in his eyes. He swallowed, glancing at the slice of toast between them before flicking his gaze back up to Dipper’s and caught the corner of the crust between his teeth. Not quite Lady and the Tramp with their plate of spaghetti, but he could work with what they had.

Dipper hadn’t been expecting that, but was all for it. He was giggling, wriggling in delight by the time their lips met in a jelly-flavored kiss. “You dork. You huge dork. I love you like crazy.” His tongue flicked out, licking jam from the corner of Wirt’s lip. “You’re so cute.”

Oh, but he was the one who was so cute, all giggles and wiggles and “I love you”s. His blush deepened as he ducked his head, smile shy and embarrassed when he peeked up at him through his bangs. “Well, I kinda have to be. Gotta keep your attention somehow. Being a cute dork appears to be working.”

Biting his lip, Dipper stifled the next batch of giggles and just let his gaze roam over his boyfriend’s face. Cute and shy and sweet, stubborn and strong and protective. How could he not grab his attention? Expression melting into simple lines of adoration, Dipper lowered his brow to Wirt’s on a sigh and rubbed fondly. His hat was still on the bedpost. He’d woken up without the need to grab it immediately, and pinned that solely on the boy he held close. “You’ve got my attention, man. You’ve got all of me.”

Wirt hummed a pleased little sound, tilting his head to nuzzle back. “Dipper.” He let the syllables of his name float off his tongue, tasting the letters of his name. All of him. He wanted all of him and Dipper was giving it to him freely. Loved him freely. His boyfriend was a treasure, and his morning inhibitions were still low enough for him to let that giddiness fill him.

“Not quite,” Wirt replied, arms tightening around him as his hands gripped tightly before he hauled him off the counter to support him on his own, albeit on slightly wobbly legs, but it wouldn’t be for long. Just long enough for him to laugh and scrunch his nose at him. “Now I’ve got all of you.”

“Dude!” Dipper clung to him, legs instinctively banding around his waist. The surprise only lasted long enough for his own laugh to build up and spill out. He was too much for Dipper to handle, from the irresistible nose scrunch to his clear delight. Their lips brushed. “Put me down. I'm too heavy for this.”

“No you’re not. Just- um… there. There, I’ve got you.” Dipper’s legs around his waist helped him get a better grip on him, and also helped him to blush harder, his strong legs gripping him tightly, relying on Wirt to keep him from toppling to the floor. Wirt flashed him a triumphant grin and took a moment to slowly spin him around the kitchen as he sought a deeper kiss. “‘M stronger than I look.”

“Mmhm.” The feeling of being carried was unfamiliar but welcome. Dipper sank into the kiss with an eager sound, a hand stealing into his hair.

Wirt practically purred, tipping his head back to get his fingers to stroke along his scalp. His hips swayed to the beat of the new song, though his lower back began to protest the movement in combination with holding him. It couldn’t multitask. He was careful in easing Dipper back down, partially bracing him against the counter without breaking the kiss. Petting his thighs, shivering at the thin material of his shorts, he got his legs to unwind and lower so he was standing on the floor once again. Wirt kept up his swaying, dragging him into a dance in the middle of his kitchen.

Dipper’s breath caught, the kiss finally breaking as he melted into the unexpected dance. This was better than moving on his own, held close by someone who made his heart race in the best of ways. “You’re really sweet.”

“You’re really adorable,” he replied, rubbing their foreheads together. “After this song, come back to bed with me? Promise I won’t fall asleep.”

“If you do, that’s okay. I won’t go anywhere. I’ll just poke you until you wake back up.” He gasped when he was twirled, laughed when he was brought back in. “Maybe I’ll kiss you awake instead.”

“Mm, I think I’d definitely prefer the latter.” Wirt held onto his waist with one hand, the other grabbing one of Dipper’s to tangle their fingers together as they rocked from side to side. “But waking up with you is amazing no matter what.”

Dipper let his free hand curl in the back of Wirt’s sweater, arm wrapping around his neck. “One day I’ll wake you up at dawn for no good reason and remind you of that.”

“The reminder will be reason enough.” He lifted his chin a little, lips quirking up at the teasing. “Even if I try to punch you in the face at the time. Just know that I won’t be in my right mind and if I whine and wiggle away from you because I think you’re mean, I don’t mean it. I’ll still think you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

He brushed light kisses along his jaw, not fighting the giggle. It was a morning for them. “If you’re gonna throw punches with all your whining and wiggling, I should seriously practice kissing and cuddling you until you forget you think I’m mean.”

“That’s a good idea. I’m all for it. When should we start?”

Dipper stopped dancing to bob up to his toes and lay his lips over Wirt’s for a light kiss. “Now works. I’m totally cool with now,” he suggested and pulled him into a second, deeper kiss.

Wirt made his approval known with one of the soft sounds he knew Dipper enjoyed and a flick of his tongue. Now was good. Now was excellent. It was difficult to let go of him and squirm away, his kiss dampened lips unable to keep from smiling as he backed towards the hallway. “You’re so mean,” he snickered.

Dipper followed him with a wide grin, catching his hands and pressing kisses to either palm. “Am not.”

“Are too. You woke me up way too early. You’re terrible.” Wirt leaned in to brush his lips to the corner of his mouth, then wiggled out of his grasp and gave his cheek a pat.

“But you said waking up with me was amazing no matter what.” Dipper’s eyes rounded as if hurt, continuing to follow his boyfriend down the hall and back to the very uniquely decorated bedroom. “Besides, it’s never too early to see your pretty face.”

“You can see it and appreciate it while I’m still asleep,” Wirt pointed out, nudging the bedroom door shut once Dipper was inside, then turned the tables by backing him up to the bed. “And it’s not amazing when you wake me up for no reason. It’s rude.”

“I can’t see your eyes when you’re asleep,” he defended, curling his fingers into his nightshirt. He stopped retreating, lifting up to meet him instead and capture his lips. He kept them locked together, gently stroking his cheek until he could turn them and fall into bed with his boyfriend. The kiss broke then, Dipper rolling atop him and biting his lip as he considered.

He was competitive, though, and wanted to win this teasing match. Almost as much as he wanted to assure him. He didn’t need the words to know they were there in every playful fight, every impromptu dance - they were everywhere. “Besides, it’s not for no reason. I love you, and want to spend time with you. And you love me and want to spend time with me, too. There’s no better reason to wake up.” Dipper kissed him again, saving him from responding.

A sharp gasp escaped him nonetheless, his heart throbbing hard in his chest, leaving him winded and stunned. He knew? All thoughts of their game fled, practice tossed out the window, as he wrapped his arms around his shoulders and held on tight. He knew. Wirt’s breath hitched on a shaky exhale, eyes squeezing shut as he kissed back, grateful relief turning into desperation. He knew without him having to say it, but he wanted to say it anyway. If anyone deserved to hear it, it was Dipper.

His lips trembled as they parted, rubbing against Dipper’s. It wasn’t that hard, he had to tell him. He had to. Why couldn’t he do this one simple thing? His voice was completely dried up, vanished and scattered to the winds save for a near-silent wheeze. Wirt tangled his fingers in his hair, tugging him into another bruising kiss, all lips and teeth and tongue and why? Why was he so good to him? What had he done to deserve this? To deserve someone as patient and understanding as Dipper Pines?

Wirt rolled them over, surrounding Dipper with himself while he clung to him. If he couldn’t say it, then he’d make sure he felt it. The demand of his own heart staggered him, giving him a moment to calm the quaking inside him. His mouth softened, losing the frantic edge, while his fingers slowly untangled themselves from his curls to pet. He knew, and that had to be enough for now. Panting, Wirt broke the kiss and dropped his head to the crook of Dipper’s neck, finally able to make a soft sound as he relaxed atop him.

“You win,” he croaked out. “You win, you’re right. That’s- that’s a very good reason.”

Dipper couldn’t respond for a moment, couldn’t breathe. He hadn’t been expecting to be kissed quite like that. He wasn’t at all sure what to do with the tangle of confused, grateful need he’d just been given. He ended up nuzzling his hair and stroking his back. What else could he say? What else could he do but band his arms around Wirt and hold him in place, hold him close?

He brushed a kiss to his ear. “Facts always win.”

“That a fact?” Wirt listened to and felt his pulse, his heart working to match it as their breaths shuddered in unison.

“Rock fact,” he confirmed, eyelids lowering on a sigh.

“Even better.” Wirt brought his hand down, petting Dipper over his heart as he felt the sigh lift his chest. “Thank you,” he murmured after a minute. “And sorry, I didn’t mean to get so… carried away, I guess. You okay?”

He laughed, fingers gliding up his back to stroke his hair. “I’m good. That was kind of great, actually. Anytime you wanna get carried away, I’m in.”

“Okay.” His laugh had Wirt smiling, the gentle petting soothing whatever tension remained. He rubbed his face into his neck and hummed, the kisses he pressed there soft as he wiggled atop him, just to feel every point where their bodies made contact. Their knees, arms, Dipper’s hip against his stomach as he slid more to the side to take the brunt of his weight off him.

“Yeah.” He immediately missed the cocooning pressure, but let Wirt go since it wasn’t far. Dipper’s head ducked, their brows rubbing together so he could search his eyes. “You okay?”

Wirt squirmed some, but maintained the eye contact, let Dipper search and study to his heart’s content. “Yeah. Just… overwhelmed by how lucky I am to have you. You’re just so… I don’t know. Staggering. You know, in a good way. Like… you’re constantly knocking me off my feet, making me think or believe things I didn’t think were possible. And I’m not talking about the paranormal stuff, I’m talking about you as a person. What you do to me and make me feel. It’s incredible and I wish I knew how to get a handle on it. Sometimes kissing you senseless seems like the only way to deal with it.”

“Oh. Well... yeah.” Dipper ducked his head again, this time hiding his face against Wirt’s shoulder. “You do that for me, so... so I get that.”

“I do?” Wirt gave him his moment to hide, affectionate in his touches as he picked along Dipper’s t-shirt, then scoffed. “You’re just saying that so I’ll kiss you again, aren’t you?”

It was said like a joke, and had likely been meant as one. But Dipper still lifted his gaze with a small frown. “No, I’m not. You’re amazing. You’re surprise after surprise, a puzzle I’ll never solve no matter how many pieces I get. And, man, I want every piece. You’re something I never actually thought I’d have, okay? It’s crazy that you want to protect me. It’s crazy that you care about me at all. Being with you is the most important, wild thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Wirt blinked, lips parting in quiet surprise. “Oh… No, that’s not- you’ve had to have done more important, wild things than be with me, Dipper. I’m just- I’m just a guy. I’m… I’m a pretty easy puzzle to solve. It won’t take long.” And then what? When Dipper solved him, what then? “There’s not much to it.”

“You have no idea, man.” Dipper reached up and cupped his face, closing his eyes against past wounds. While they were part of it, it wasn’t the time to discuss them. “You’re not just a guy. You’re my guy. My poetic pilgrim. You’re shy and sweet, but you’ll still stubbornly call me out on my crap. You’re quiet and serious, but you’ll pick me up off your counter and dance with me in the kitchen.”

His lashes fluttered up again, meeting his gaze. “You’re all these weird combinations, and there’s no way to label you. You fit them all, but none of them at the same time. I’ll never solve you, Wirt. I can only, y’know, love you.”

“Dipper…” Wirt’s breath caught, tears actually collecting in his eyes, so he hid them by closing them and pressing a kiss to his palm, bringing up a hand to hold it there. “That’s… Gosh, why are you so sweet? You’re smart and beautiful and pretty much my dream guy, like… and you see all those things in me? _You_. I’m never going to be able to solve you either, Dipper Pines. You’re absolutely mind-boggling and I-”

He opened his eyes, lips pursing as he held his gaze and his hand. “I adore you. Every part of you. I’m… I’m honored to be your guy. That’s one label I’m totally, one hundred percent okay with. Anything that’s yours. Boyfriend, shield, guy… I’ll be any of them.”

“Well, those are all the same thing.” Dipper hadn’t meant to make him cry, sweet tears or not, so kissed his pursed lips and threw in a smile. “Mine. It’s the best label I can think of for you. Mine, all mine.”

“That’s a good one, yeah. Like the sound of it. Almost as much as your label.” Wirt returned the smile on a small laugh, letting go of his hand to rub at his eyes.

“Yours, all yours?” he guessed, newly freed hand stroking his boyfriend’s side.

“Hey. Who told you?” Wirt scrunched his nose, brow furrowing in an attempt to be playful and to stop being the blubbering mess he was. “Obviously someone did. I don’t know how you could’ve possibly figured it out on your own.”

“I think you might’ve once or twice.” Dipper brushed his lips to the scrunch, trying to use his delight in it to soothe. “I could be wrong, though. I’m usually pretty braindead when you say it.”

“This is true. But you are a genius, so anything’s possible, I guess.” Wirt tilted his head to capture Dipper’s lips with his own. “Still want to say it now though. Mine, all mine.”

“Mm. My brain’s not dead enough for that. You’ll just have to keep kissing me.”

“I think that’s a reasonable enough request,” Wirt murmured before brushing the second kiss of many against his lips.

 

\----

 

Papers were spread about Wirt’s bed, Dipper and Greg right in the middle of the mess. Dipper had the boy snug in his lap, the laptop in front of them as he worked. A map of the town was on the screen, and Dipper was typing dates onto various points as he spoke. “So it looks like the Giant Frog is trying to hit every single lake and pond that he can in the whole town. Some of the big ones he hits more than once, probably trying to cover every edge. These are the places I know he’s been based on the amount of frogs in the area.” He didn’t want to explain why he’d been out late enough to notice the pattern.

“Do you see it? Kind of making a spiral, right?” To help, Dipper switched colors and started to draw connecting lines to the spots. It was a sloppy, outward spiral, but he was missing a few nights here and there - the past four, specifically. “I think, if he follows the pattern, he’ll be here tonight.” He made a quick star on Long Pond, right beside Goat Island. It was low, at the edge of the city. “A couple more days and he’ll be out of Lakeville and onto the next town.”

“Will he take all the extra frogs with him?” Greg asked, tilting his head back to look at him. “And will he ever come back?”

“Yes, he'll take the frogs. But I've got no clue if he'll come back. He's a busy guy.”

“Then we better go see if we can find him as soon as possible!” Greg nodded firmly, then grabbed one of the pillows from Wirt's bed and flung it at his older brother, who'd been minding his own business tinkering with his train set at his table. It smacked him in the back of the head and he dropped the piece of track he was laying. He removed his headset, music floating from the cassette tape whirring in the deck by his arm, and looked over his shoulder at them with an arched brow. “Wirt! Frog hunt tonight! Be there or be square!”

At the foot of the bed, her mess scrapbook related, Mabel giggled. “Absolutely!”

“We’ll need a boat,” Dipper mused. “Most likely, anyway.”

“A boat?” Wirt blinked.

“I bet Old Lady Daniels knows where to find a boat!” Greg grinned up at Dipper, who immediately grinned back and ruffled his hair. “She knows lots of things. Because she’s old.”

With a snort, Wirt shifted in his chair so he was straddling it, arms folded on the back as he propped his chin up on them. “She’d know about boats because she has a boat, Greg, not because she’s old.”

“You think she’d let us borrow it? I mean, it’s not like the Giant Frog’s just gonna be on the edge of the water.”

Wirt’s lips quirked up. “Maybe. How do you guys feel about obscene amounts of yard work?”

“Nothing in this world is free,” Greg added solemnly.

“Sounds like fun!” Mabel decided.

Her twin shrugged. “I’m in.”

“Alright. She lives just down the street, so we can head over there if you’re done with your research.” Wirt nodded towards the materials on the bed. “Oh, um, it’s a row boat, by the way. Will that be fine? Don’t want to spend the afternoon ripping weeds from the garden in the hot sun if the boat isn’t… I dunno, sturdy enough.”

The twins exchanged looks, Mabel’s grin wide. Dipper nodded. “Row boat works. It’s not like we’ve never used them before, and I think a motorboat would scare the frog away.” He ruffled Greg’s hair again. “So, detective, you think we’re done with our research?”

“Yeah! I think we’re ready to catch ourselves a giant frog!” Greg pumped his arms back and forth as he beamed up at him while Wirt rolled his eyes at his choice of words.

“We’re not catching it, Greg. We’re going to… observe it.”

“Observe ourselves a giant frog.” His cheerfulness didn’t diminish as he corrected himself.

Laughing, Dipper poked at his sides. “Okay, but why? Like, why do you think we’re done?”

“Why?” Greg blinked at him, then shrugged a little. “Um… because you asked me if I thought we were done? Most people only ask me that when they know they’re done already. Unless it’s Mom asking if I think my room’s clean, then she’s being ironic, I think.”

“That’s not why I asked you.” Not enough people took kids seriously. Being seven didn’t mean his brain didn’t work. “Seriously, Greg. Why do you think we’re done?”

Greg glanced at Wirt, his older brother trying to hide his smile in his arms and failing. For some reason he looked like he was absolutely in love with Dipper - well, for a reason other than the fact that he was because ob-waffle. When he caught his eye, Wirt sobered up some and nodded encouragingly while he sat up straighter in his chair.

“Well…” Greg drew out the syllable as he looked back at Dipper. “Because we figured out the pattern and know where he’s going to be tonight? And we’ve gotta make sure that we have all the supplies we need to be able to go on our frog hunt safely, so we need to have enough time to prepare for that.”

Dipper ducked his head, tapping the bill of his cap to Greg’s brow, grinning at him. “Sounds good to me. Let’s get out of here.”

As Greg laughed, there was a knock on Wirt’s bedroom door. When the okay was given, Jonathan poked his head in. The eager energy between the two brothers faltered a bit as they looked to him, noting the hesitation in his eyes.

“Hey, guys, sorry to bother you, but… Wirt?” Jonathan glanced from him to each of the twins, then back. “Your… your dad’s on the phone. He wants to know if you have a minute to talk.” His shoulders sagged when honest disbelief flickered across his face. “I can… I can let him know you’ll call him back if you’re in the middle of something.”

“No, no- I’ll-” Wirt almost fell out of his chair in his haste to stand up, forgetting that he was straddling it. “It’s fine. It’s- yeah. No, I can talk.” His heart clenched suddenly and he whirled about to face Dipper and Mabel. “Sorry, it’ll just be- it’ll just be a second. Maybe. Probably. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, man, go ahead.”

Mabel nodded. “We can start getting ready to go.”

“Okay. Okay, great.” Wirt raked his fingers through his hair, then turned to Jonathan. “Which, uh…”

“I’ve got him on the office phone,” he told him, stepping aside as Wirt nodded and attempted to walk as calmly and collected as possible out of his room.

Greg waited only long enough for his dad to leave the doorway after him, then he was bolting from Dipper’s lap and out of the bedroom. Seconds later he was back with the receiver from the kitchen clutched in his hand. Bouncing onto the bed between the twins, he put his thumb over the talk button, hesitating for a beat.

“We were just gonna go spy on him anyway,” Mabel whispered, her twin nodding. “It’s okay.”

“Wirt’s dad never calls. Ever,” Greg clarified, just so they had a bigger picture. “Well, okay, he called once around Thanksgiving, but we were at school when that happened so it doesn’t count. This is an important Mystery Best Friends Mystery.” With that said, he turned on the phone and put it on speaker.

“Oh, so- you uh… you got the Father’s Day card I sent okay?” Wirt’s voice crackled through, sounding strange to Greg’s ears. “It got there on time and… and everything? I had to send it from California because we were on vacation and I just- I just wasn’t sure if it would make it.”

“Yes, yes. It was nice. Thank you, Wirt.” The stranger’s voice on the other end had Greg furrowing his brow. Unlike the extreme focus his older brother seemed to be giving the conversation, this man seemed distracted. “I meant to call sooner, but things have been busy around here. You know how it is.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. No, it’s fine, I completely understand. You’re- you’re a busy guy.” Wirt had to clear his throat. “But um… about… about what I said, in the card, you know, um-”

“What have I told you about stammering?”

There was a pause. “That… that no one takes it seriously if I stammer.”

“Get your thoughts together before you try to talk, Wirt.”

Greg gaped at the phone, then shifted it to Mabel and then Dipper, covering the speaker with one hand as he whispered, “No one ever tells him not to do that.”

Dipper almost didn’t hear him, blood boiling as he glared at the phone. The snippy, impatient voice. Why even call if you weren’t going to pay attention? Why call if you were going to berate your own son like he’d done something wrong? And why were they talking about _Father’s Day_ when it was almost August? Too busy for over a month?

Mabel bit her lip, looking from Greg to her brother and back down. She kept her voice just as soft. “It’s... it’ll be okay. We don’t mind when he stammers, and he knows that.”

Greg nodded, but he chewed on his lower lip as his brother’s soft, “sorry, Dad,” floated through. He didn’t know what he was expecting when Wirt’s dad was basically nonexistent, but it hadn’t been this.

“I take it you want to talk about your birthday? That is what you mentioned in the card, after all,” the man continued.

“Yeah…” Wirt spoke slowly, taking care with his words. “I just thought I’d see if you would… be free. Then. Since it’s my sixteenth and… everything, I thought maybe we could… do something? I mean, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen you.”

“I did invite you to New York for Thanksgiving.”

“The day before Thanksgiving,” Greg hissed to the twins.

“I know, I know- sorry, I… I appreciated it. I did. But… but I still want to see you. I miss you, Dad. It just seemed like… seeing you for my birthday would be… I dunno, nice.”

“I understand, Wirt. That’s actually why I’m calling. I’ll need to talk it over with your mother, but I’m thinking of putting together a little trip for the two of us to celebrate.”

“Wha-” Wirt choked audibly, but when his voice came back it was full of disbelief and something like excitement. “Really? _Really_? You actually want to?”

“Would I have offered if I didn’t?”

“Sorry, sorry, I just- wow. Um. Okay. Yeah, Mom’s not home right now, but I’m… I’m open to whatever you have in mind and I’m sure she will be, too,” he babbled.

“Yes, well, I’ll still need to talk to her about it.”

“Of course, right. Right, yeah. I’ll tell her to call you. I’ll call her right now and tell her to call you and- and you’ll still be able to talk, right? You won’t be busy or anything when she calls?”

“Don’t bother her with it right now, Wirt. It can wait until she’s home.” There was a shuffling of papers and something that sounded like the tapping of keys on his end. “But you’re interested?”

“Yes. Yeah, definitely,” Wirt agreed quickly.

“Alright then. Once I’ve spoken with your mother we can work out the details and get everything squared away, so that’s it for now. It’s been good talking with you, son.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. You too. I…” Wirt paused, an internal debate filling the gap for a moment. “I love you, Dad. Thanks for calling.”

“Of course, Wirt. Talk to you soon.”

“Yeah. Bye.”

When the line went dead, Mabel began quietly gathering her scrapbook supplies. “Go put the phone back, baby. Go on.”

Greg nodded and hung up the phone before scrambling off the bed. He hid the receiver behind his back as he poked his head into the hall, but no one was there yet. By the time he came back, Wirt still hadn’t left the office. Greg stayed by the door, leaning against the wall as he played lookout while addressing Dipper and Mabel.

“I don’t really understand what happened,” he confessed. “His dad sounded sort of mean, but then sort of nice because he’s planning a birthday trip?”

In his brief absence, Dipper had stalked to the window. He gripped the sil, staring into the yard. “Sort of,” he muttered. The man on the other end of that phone call didn’t _deserve_ Wirt.

Mabel sighed. “It was confusing, but sometimes parents are. Maybe he really was just busy.” Dipper scoffed audibly. His sister continued to address Greg, ignoring him. “You’ve met Wirt’s dad, haven’t you? What do you think of him?”

Greg’s brow furrowed and he shook his head. “No, I’ve never met him. I’ve never even heard his voice before today.”

Dipper spun. “What?!”

Greg jumped a little. “What?” he echoed.

How could he have been around so little that Greg knew nothing of him? What kind of rotten guy- Why had Wirt been so eager to talk to him? Frustrated, Dipper turned back towards the window.

Mabel beckoned Greg over. “Don’t mind him, sweetie. He’s just as confused as you are, that’s all.” He tossed a glare over his shoulder, and she shrugged. They both knew he was mad, but there was little use in explaining the details of why. Neither twin liked to talk about it anyway. “But if Wirt wants to go on a birthday trip with his dad, we should be supportive. Okay?”

“Okay.” He nodded, then crossed his heart for good measure.

“I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised.” With having abandoned his lookout post, Greg had no warning for himself or Dipper and Mabel when Wirt returned to the room with a sigh. “Kitchen phone?”

“You’ll never convict! You have no proof!” Greg shouted, ducking behind Mabel.

Managing a smile, Mabel tipped her head to the side. “Maybe we’re psychic. You don’t know.”

Wirt snorted, going for nonchalance though his posture was stiff and his arms folded across his chest. “All three of you are psychic?”

“Only one of us would need to be psychic,” Greg piped up. “Then that one would tell everyone else what was going on.”

“Mm.” Lifting an eyebrow, he hummed his acceptance, though he did fidget when his gaze shifted to Dipper, heart clenching as he noted his back stayed to him. “Fair enough. So, you guys ready to go? Since there are four of us, it probably won’t take us very long to do whatever Mrs. Daniels deems worthy in exchange for borrowing her boat.”

“Yep!” Mabel hopped up, but quickly crossed to her silently fuming twin. “Stop,” she whispered, staring out the window with him. “You’ll hurt his feelings if you ignore him.”

“I’m not-”

“Yes, you are. Get out of your own head, Dipdop. It’s not the same as you and dad.”

He winced. “He talked to him like he was a waste, Mabel.”

“Then you talk to him like he’s not. Dummy.” She leaned over, kissing his cheek, and lifted her voice. “Now come on. Maybe she’ll have firewood for you to chop!”

“It’s _July_.”

“So?”

“Oh my god.” He forced his apprehension out of the way, his complete distaste for the man who’d fathered his completely amazing and clearly unappreciated boyfriend, to finally turn back to the room and offer a smiling shrug.

Wirt’s answering smile was hesitant, but he did relax once he could see his face. He wasn’t sure how much they’d heard, or how they felt about it, and he wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to know. He’d spoken of his dad to Dipper once, to Mabel never, and Greg only a handful of times to assure that the man did in fact exist and was not a superhero hiding his secret identity.

Rocking back on his heels, Wirt nodded towards the hall. “So… let’s uh- let’s get going then. If you want to. If you’re- yeah.”

“Yeah, man.” Dipper closed the distance, taking his hand and lacing their fingers. It didn’t matter that he stuttered some. He could still be taken seriously. He was important. He mattered enough to be called more by his own father. How often had Wirt wondered since sending the card if his dad had gotten it and read a question about his birthday? As much as Dipper and his own dad had their troubles, he’d never had to ask to spend a birthday together.

He was getting annoyed again, though, so lifted up and brushed their lips together. “Lead the way, pilgrim.”

“Okay,” he murmured, gaze flicking from his lips to his eyes as he swallowed. “On the way… I know you like answers and figuring things out, so… you can ask me things. About him. If you want.”

_Why did you say ‘I love you’ to someone who’s awful to you and barely talks to you when you can’t say it to me?_

Horrified with himself, Dipper pressed his lips together and shook his head. “No, it’s- It’s fine, man.  Just... whatever you want to tell me is fine.”

Wirt’s brow furrowed. “You’re sure?” The question and subsequent shift in his eyes didn’t escape him, but again, the niggling worry that he didn’t want to know flared up. “I mean, I don’t really know where to start. He’s just… he’s not around much.” Ever, but he’d pretty much gotten used to that. “I’m just letting you know that if you did want to ask anything, ever, you can. It’s okay.”

 With a squeeze to his hand, he led him out into the hall, letting Greg go on ahead when he looked to him for permission. Oh gosh, he didn’t want to go back to this. Wirt raked his fingers through his hair and gave Greg his best smile because he was fine. He was great. He was going to get to see his dad for his birthday, like he’d asked.

Except he didn’t really think he’d follow through on it. He hadn’t thought he’d even answer him. He’d given up on hearing from him. It was better not to expect anything than to be disappointed when he got nothing, right?

“Maybe I’ll take you up on it later. I don’t really know what to ask.” Dipper had too many questions, all parallels to his own life and things he didn’t want to get into. “And, well... If he’s not around, it’s his loss.”

“Nah, he’s way more successful and happier now than he was when he lived here-” Wirt mentally kicked himself, visibly cringing at his own dumb mouth. “Wait. Sorry, no, I know that’s not what- I- I’m sorry. I get what you mean. Thank you.” He sought out his gaze, the smile he gave him this time leaning more towards grateful than nervous. “Thanks.”

“I mean it. You’re way more special and awesome than he realizes.” It was going to hurt to not hear it back this time, but Dipper still tugged him to a stop and lifted up, letting his lips move over his boyfriend’s. “I love you,” he murmured and sank into a kiss.

Oh. Wirt’s heart clenched tightly, just as his fingers clutched at Dipper’s shirt. He heard it in the spaces between the words, unspoken and wondering. This was the question. Oh no. “I don’t know why I tell him that, I never get an answer,” he confessed in a whisper, ducking his head to press their brows together under the bill of his cap. “I guess I keep saying it because I’m always hoping that maybe one day he’ll say it back- oh, god.”

His eyes widened suddenly and he jerked away, backing up right into the wall. “Am I doing that to you?” he wheezed, staring at Dipper in horror, hand pressing on his chest as the realization knocked the wind out of him. “Oh my god. I’m making you- how could I-? Oh, god, what’s _wrong_ with me?”

“No. Wirt, nothing’s wrong with you. Don’t say that.” Crap, crap, crap. “I know how you feel about me. It’s okay.” He stepped forward, cupping his cheeks. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you.”

“No, no, you don’t understand. I spent so long trying to get him to love me, and I can’t do that to you.” Wirt tried to shake his head, but Dipper’s hands held him in place. “I can’t. I can’t. You deserve someone who can say it back and say it first and make you feel special and important and won’t leave you waiting and waiting and waiting and wondering what you’re doing wrong-!”

Dipper cut him off, pressing him into the wall as their lips were pressed together. He wasn’t going to let him out of this one, wouldn’t let him go while he was distressed over nothing. He deepened it quickly, tongue stealing between his lips to grant as much comfort as he could. Fingers stayed on his face, thumbs brushing beneath his eyes in gentle caresses.

Wirt whimpered into the kiss, his ranting cut off and swallowed down while his mind spun and his heart hammered. He grabbed at Dipper, uncertain if he should push him away or pull him closer while his boyfriend busily made the decision for him. The panicked sounds steadily died in his throat, replaced by the soft kind Dipper preferred and his fingers tugged on his shirt to keep him as he melted, body and mind, and began to kiss back.

As the sounds had Dipper sighing his relief into the kiss, his hands slowly slid down to Wirt’s hips and glided back up to knead his shoulders. The kiss gentled, and was only broken when air became absolutely necessary. He left their lips close together, hovering on his toes. “I know you love me,” he whispered. “I know it’s there, and that’s all I need. I know you’ll say it when you’re ready. You’re not your dad. You’re you.”

“I just want to be good enough for you.” Wirt gulped, searching Dipper’s gaze, lips instinctively grazing. “I don’t want to lose you because of three words. I can weave so many other words together that are so much less meaningful, but I can’t with those three because I’m afraid once I say them you’ll stop? It’s stupid. It doesn’t even make sense. If the feelings are there, why can’t the words just happen?”

“I think you’re good enough for me. I understand that you can’t say it yet. It’s not stupid, and neither are you. They’re important words, so I’d so much rather you say them when you’re ready than force them out anyway. It’s seriously okay. Just trust me, Wirt.”

“I do.” His arms wrapped around his waist to hug and hold onto. “I trust you. And you’re right… you’re totally right, they are important and shouldn’t be forced. You’re right.” He waited for the ball of tension in his chest to ease before trying to lighten the mood a bit. “Bet I’m subconsciously waiting for the ideal, romantic moment or something super cliche and awful that’ll make us both cringe.”

He laughed, rubbing their noses together gently. “Obviously, we’ve got to go on another date somewhere ideal and romantic or cliche and awful.”

“Obviously.” Wirt’s lips twitched a little, smile difficult to coax out even with Dipper’s laugh, and his nose scrunched to make up for it. “I’ll get right to work on that after our frog hunt. Hopefully it’ll lean more towards ideal and romantic.”

“I’ve got no problem with that.” Dipper brushed a kiss to the scrunch of his nose. “Before I told you about- you know, what happened back in Gravity Falls, you said you’d wait for me to be ready. I can absolutely return that favor. I waited more than two years just to see you again, man. Now that I’ve got you, I can wait as long as you need for the words.”

Wirt lifted a hand to brush and tuck a stray curl behind Dipper’s ear, letting his touch linger as he caressed his cheek. “Thank you.” His voice quivered a little, eyes lighting with awe and affection as he leaned in to place his lips against his. “So, uh… where were we before I had my little freak out? Can we get back to that?”

“Old Lady Daniels and an obscene amount of yard work.” He hummed playfully, as if considering something, and made no move to step back. “I’m not really sure if I want to get back to that. Maybe we should reconsider the plans. Staying here and making out seems way better.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you. You’re a pretty great kisser.” Wirt leaned back though and tilted the bill of Dipper’s cap down to shade his face. “But we already agreed to a frog hunt and we need a boat. Greg will never forgive us if we don’t see the giant frog tonight. Besides, you and me, on a boat on the lake in the moonlight? Sounds pretty ideal and romantic to me. Aside from the fact that those outliers of ours will be there, too, but that’s a minor detail.”

“I don’t know how they’d feel about being called minor details, so I won’t tell on you.” He gave him a last squeeze before withdrawing, pushing the bill of his cap up. “But maybe we should think about getting our hands on two boats.”

“Afraid I only know where to get the one.” Wirt shrugged. “We’ll have to go on an expedition to find a second one. Or you know… rent one, but where’s the fun in that?”

“There’s none at all.” Dipper sighed a little dramatically as he caught Wirt’s hands and lifted both to his lips. “But I guess Detective Greg was right. We’ve got to start gathering our supplies.”

“We can always make out later,” Wirt offered, blush rising to his cheeks as his smile came more easily. “To be continued?”

“Dude, is that even a question?” Grinning, Dipper released one hand, but laced fingers with the other and tugged him after their impatiently waiting siblings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, guys! I (Skimming) will be out of town next week without access to my laptop - I'm going to be a camp counselor at a summer camp for adopted and foster children and their families in the mountains/woods so there will not be wifi, plus I don't really want to take my laptop there when I'm supposed to be enjoying nature - so LCOL is going to have a bit of a hiatus next week to make up for the fact that I won't get to write much with Syl.
> 
> It will only be a week though! Chapter 15 will go up this Friday and then 16 and 17 will be posted on June 29th and July 3rd respectively if all goes according to plan. But! There is good news! We've been working on a fic to tide you over in the meantime and Sylvia will be posting parts of it next week while I'm gone, so keep an eye out for that! It will be Wirt and Dipper centric, but an AU based off a list of prompts we saw on Tumblr and couldn't resist, so it's separate from the Mystery Best Friends series. It's still fabulous though. We hope you enjoy it. We think you will.


	15. Chapter 15

“And then Dipper used the frogs to pinpoint the location of the _Giant_ Frog! That’s why we need to get to Goat Island and that’s why we need your boat, Old Lady Daniels. It’s a noble cause!”

From the vegetable box gardens framing the far fence of the backyard, Greg rambled on to their elderly neighbor and long-time babysitter, revealing the goal of their afternoon’s labors to her with gusto while he plucked weeds from the dirt. Dropping handfuls of dirt and roots into a garbage bag, he grinned up at her, soil smudging his cheeks.  She chuckled warmly and used the edge of her flower-printed apron to wipe the dirt away.

“Well, I am happy to do my part to help you in your noble cause, Gregory,” she told him. “But how many times do I have to tell you? Don’t call me ‘old lady.’ You know better.” She pinched his cheek and he laughed.

“Yes sir, young man!” he chirped, then flung more dirt and weeds into the bag.

“That’s more like it.” She ruffled his hair, then rose from her crouch. “All this work for this noble cause calls for some fresh lemonade and popsicles, what do you say? I’ll be right back with some refreshments for you kids. You more than deserve it.”

While Greg cheered, Wirt paused to lean against the reel mower he’d been pushing through the lawn. Sweater gone and shirtsleeves cuffed up to his elbows, he wished he’d considered wearing a regular t-shirt and shorts for once in his life. Slacks and sweaters in the summer were already a bad idea for most people, but working outside in the heat of the day only amplified it. Even Wirt wasn’t invincible to the heat, despite his best efforts, so a break and some lemonade were more than appreciated.

“Thanks, Mrs. Daniels,” he called out as she creaked up the back porch steps and into the house.

Mabel swung down, legs locked around a tree branch. She and Dipper were supposed to be trimming it, but thus far she’d managed to spend most of her time practicing acrobatics. “I think I heard popsicles.”

“Pssh. You probably need to have actually done work to earn popsicles.”

“I’ve done plenty of work!” she exclaimed, then lowered her voice some. “Y’know, when you’re busy ogling your boyfriend’s arms. Maybe he should undo a couple buttons, wow.”

Face turning bright red, grateful for the cover of leaves, Dipper flipped her legs so she’d fall right off the branch. She squealed, tumbling midair to land gracefully on her feet. “You brat! Maybe I should tell-”

“Shut up, Mabel! I will drop a branch on your freaking head!”

She stuck her tongue at him, and he returned the favor. Giggling, she skipped over to Wirt. Her sleeves had been pushed up, too, but she still wore her leaf-covered sweater. It had seemed fitting for yard work. “I think Old Lady Daniels and Grunkle Stan would get along great. They’re both bossy sweethearts.”

Wirt grinned at her. “Yeah, I can see that. Oh boy. Imagine the endless chores we’d be forced to endure if they ever teamed up. Hours upon hours of manual labor. I think I’d rather be back in Pottsfield than have to deal with that,” he chuckled, then glanced over his shoulder at the tree and waved at Dipper. “He just gonna stay up there?”

“Only until his blush goes away, probably.” She poked his cheeks, beaming. “I mean, look at you with your sleeves all rolled up. What a tease.”

Wirt’s cheeks flushed from more than just the heat of the day, but he laughed and batted her hand away. “Oh yeah. That’s me. Wirt the tease.” He rolled his eyes, the glint in them turned mischievous as he shifted so Dipper could get more of a view if he was watching them. He kept his gaze on Mabel, mouth straining with the effort not to laugh as he tried to casually tug his sleeves up a little more. “I don’t think they go any higher,” he confessed quietly.

“Oh my gosh, I love you,” she said in the same, delighted way as her twin. “Wirt the tease is so in the house. Or in the backyard, but you get it.” Her brows wiggled. “If you undid a button, he’d probably swallow his tongue. Just a suggestion.”

Wirt lifted an eyebrow, but his fingers went to his collar and deftly unfastened it to expose a sliver of skin near his neck. “Oh my gosh, this is ridiculous,” he muttered, still grinning and flushed as he glanced up at Dipper. He poked his tongue out and released a second one, fighting to keep his expression innocent.

Dipper very nearly fell out of the tree, pitching forward to better see, but then his sister’s not-so-muffled giggle hit his ears and he jerked back. “Mabel, you _told_ him!” he realized and her laughter became even less muffled.

“All’s fair in love and ob-waffle, bro-bro!”

“No, it’s not that, I’m just really… _really_ hot, Dipper,” Wirt snickered, but he stopped messing with the buttons to keep his boyfriend from losing any more of his balance. He did tug on his considerably loose collar though.

The shears Old Lady Daniels had given him were chucked, lodging upright in the dirt. Dipper swung down right after, not bothering to climb down properly. He stalked straight to Wirt, cupping the back of his neck. “That’s the whole problem, man. You’re really hot.” Jerking the bill of his hat to the side, he pulled Wirt down into a hard, sizzling kiss.

He stumbled a little, caught off balance by Dipper’s intensity, and braced his hands on his boyfriend’s shoulders. Oh, if this was the kind of kissing they’d get to do if he teased him, then maybe he’d make it a regular thing. It was certainly rewarding so far. As a treat, he gave him one of those small sounds he liked so much, then broke it with a laugh.

“That’s kinda the point, Dipper. A _double_ _entendre_.” He let the syllables of the last two words flick off his tongue with purpose, drawing them out, as he grinned at him.

“Oh my god, you jerk.” It wasn’t even as though Dipper hadn’t seen his arms before. He’d seen quite a bit more skin than this back at the Gravity Falls pool, and he saw his arms depending on the nightshirt Wirt wore to bed.

But this was different somehow, and left his teenage hormones a chaotic mess. “You stupidly hot jerk.” He bobbed up to his toes to capture his lips again, tongue stealing between his lips to play over his boyfriend’s devilish one. The way he said words sometimes was impossible.

Wirt’s next bout of giggling was completely overtaken by that clever tongue, turning them all into a gasp. “Not a jerk,” he breathed against his lips. “Just giving you what you want. I felt you watching me.” His hands dropped to cup Dipper’s waist, pulling him closer.

“Been watching since you took off that sweater.” He ducked his head, teeth sinking into a fading hickey to freshen it.

“Dipper!” His voice cracked, eyes rounding as his knees wobbled, gaze darting to the house. It felt good, stupidly good and he had to actively bite his lip to keep from encouraging him - even though he _really_ wanted to encourage him. “Not in Mrs. Daniels’s _garden_!” he hissed, squeezing his sides to deter him. What would the woman think if she came back out and he had a fresh hickey on his neck? “Besides, I’m all sweaty and gross and hot- and I mean hot as in the temperature this time.”

Yes in Mrs. Daniels’s garden. Dipper hummed a laugh, not deterred in the slightest. The hand at the back of his neck lifted, tangling in his hair to keep his head in place. The other hand cupped his hip, dragging him closer and keeping him there as tongue and teeth worked to claim what was his. “I think I like when you’re sweaty and gross and hot,” he admitted, voice low once he was satisfied with the mark.

His protests gave way to muffled whimpers as he squirmed in Dipper’s hold. Heart thundering in his chest, the small piece of it that had been bruised from earlier - that reminded him of his dad’s disinterest in him - was soothed and forced deep inside as the feeling of being wanted and loved by a person like Dipper swept through him. Dipper was the total package and he wanted _him_ \- sweaty and gross and hot and unable to say ‘I love you’ aside.

But he was still extremely conscious of the fact that they were in his old babysitter’s garden, supposed to be doing yardwork in exchange for her boat, not making out and giving each other hickies. No matter if he’d technically started this whole thing with his teasing. Face burning, across his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears, Wirt shuddered at the low tone, then glowered at him. He let go of him and tried to pull away so he could do up his buttons to his collar.

“I can’t believe you. My teasing at least didn’t leave any visible marks,” he grumbled, trying hard to mask the pleasure being claimed inspired. “And don’t do that thing with your voice. You sound too irresistible.”

Dipper only released him because the buttons wouldn't hide the mark. “If I'm so irresistible, prove it,” he purred, eyes a wicked dare.

The furrow to Wirt’s brow deepened, but his stomach flip-flopped just the same as his heart fluttered. “I said you ‘sound too irresistible,’ not that you are,” he reminded him, flipping up his collar with a satisfied smirk. Sure, it looked ridiculous, but it hid the mark. “I don’t have to prove anything.”

“It’s a good thing you’re totally irresistible, then. One of us has to be.” Determined, Dipper grabbed his wrists, pressing forward again. His tongue slid up the center of his throat, the slow glide ending with a nip to his chin. More nipping kisses were laid along his jawline, accompanied by little hums of “Mine, mine, mine.”

Wirt shivered again, his stubborn will tried heavily by the rush of Dipper’s claim and the absolute delight he found in this boy despite how incredibly impossible he was. “Oh my gosh,” Wirt gasped, his attempts to wiggle away resulting in his lower back pressing into the handle of the reel mower and was nearly overwhelmed with how much he liked that, despite how uncomfortable it seemed. “Okay, okay, I’m yours, you win, you’re irresistible, _okay._ ”

He caved, turning his head away before ducking to give him what he wanted. Wirt bit down on his neck, high and completely visible for payback. Lips and teeth and tongue worked furiously, all their practice paying off as he suckled and grazed the sensitive skin.

“Oh my god,” Dipper whimpered, beside himself as every little bite sang through his veins. His fingers flexed, abandoning his wrists to clutch at his shoulders for balance. That’s what he’d wanted, to be claimed in return. It didn’t matter where they were.

Wirt purred against his neck, letting the sound play over his skin before laving his tongue along the mark in quick, light swipes. “There,” he breathed, lifting his head and a single brow as he licked his lips, the corners quirking up as he looked him over. “Now you’re mine. We good now? Am I going to have to find a stick to fend you off with?”

“Nah, we’re good.” Dipper reached out, folding the collar of his shirt down. “But your teasing definitely left a couple satisfying marks.”

“My teasing?” Wirt snorted, crossing his arms. “I’m sorry, but these marks are all your doing, mister.”

He grinned, wriggling happily against him. “They started as your fault. I was just fine, ogling you from the tree.”

Okay, he couldn’t hold a straight face at that. Wirt broke out into a grin of his own and laughed. “Oh yeah? You were really happy sitting up in that tree? Ogling me when you could’ve been…” Wirt hummed some kind of nonsensical tune, hips shifting back and forth as he raised his eyebrows high on his forehead. “I dunno… doing something more than ogling?”

“Hey, I said ‘just fine.’ I didn’t say ‘happy.’ Thank you for enticing me out of a tree so I could be happy,” he teased, patting Wirt’s heart.

Wirt shrugged, still grinning. “Anything for you,” he told him honestly.

“Oh, you boys remind me so much of Margaret and I - my late wife,” Old Lady Daniels told Greg and Mabel as an aside, the three of them sitting on the back porch and partaking in the popsicles and lemonade she’d brought out. “She was quite the looker. I was lucky enough to be married to her in her prime. Don’t trust anyone who says your twenties are the best years of your life. Sixties and seventies are… what is it you young people say? Where it’s at, yes, that’s the one.”

As she spoke, Wirt’s expression fell from delighted to absolutely mortified. He covered his face with his hands on a quiet moan and tried to will the color in his cheeks away. “Oh my gosh…”

“Stop your fussing, Wirt. I live across the street from the high school, you think I haven’t seen worse?” she called out to him.

Mabel laughed. “Oh, Mrs. Daniels, they’re just being waffles. It’s what they do best. Right, Greg?”

“That’s right. Ob-waffle!” He brandished his popsicle to cross it with Mabel’s as if it were a sword.

“Come on, boys. Get some refreshments while they’re still cold.” Mrs. Daniels beckoned them over.

“Oh, man.” Dipper righted his hat, tugged the bill low. He was still grinning, though, despite his blush. “Come on, pilgrim. You seriously need to cool off after being all sweaty and gross and hot.”

Wirt lowered his hands just enough to glower at him. “You just said you liked it when I’m all sweaty and gross and hot.” Still, he followed him to the porch nonetheless and sat down beside him.

Taking the glass of lemonade Mrs. Daniels offered him, he pressed it to the side of his neck for some of the condensation to soothe the heat and the mark Dipper had just renewed with vigor. He couldn’t deny that it pleased him, but it was an odd combination of embarrassment and delight. It wasn’t that he didn’t like it, he did. Immensely. But making out in front of fellow teenagers was one thing. Doing it in front of someone who’d basically known him his whole life was another entirely. Next thing he knew, she’d probably be sharing stories about him when he was five or lecturing Dipper on protecting his virtue or something.

“So, Dipper,” Mrs. Daniels began as she offered him a choice between a cherry, orange, and grape popsicle and Wirt bristled at the tone. “While I’m pleased as punch to see someone expressing such an interest in our Wirt here, I do have to ask just what your intentions towards him are. I’ve known him since he was a toddler, you see, so I have to make sure the boy he’s enamored with measures up.” She winked at him while Wirt groaned.

“Mrs. Daniels, don’t ask him things like that. Dipper, don’t listen to-”

“Hush, Wirt.” She gave his cheek a pat to silence him and he pouted.

Grinning, Dipper took cherry. “Well, see, he’s all shy and sweet and cute. So I was thinking about corrupting him some and then keeping him forever. If that’s okay.”

Wirt gaped at him while Mrs. Daniels barked out a laugh. “That’s more than okay with me! Someone needs to liven this boy up.” She squeezed Wirt’s shoulder as she handed him an orange popsicle while he huffed, addressing him next. “You better intend to keep him forever, too. Sounds and looks like he’s good for you.”

“He _is_ good for me.” Wirt opened his and immediately stuffed it between his lips to give his mouth something to do other than encourage Mrs. Daniels and her nosing about in his business. “Unless he’s actually trying to corrupt me,” he muttered, casting him a glance.

Dipper pointed at him with his own popsicle, but his gaze was on the older woman. “He doesn’t need someone to liven him up. He’s got plenty of life. It’s just hiding behind all the shy.” His gaze flicked back to Wirt, smile softening. “Some corruption’s unavoidable.”

With a hum, Wirt removed the popsicle from his mouth and stuck his tongue out at him. “I’m not _shy_. I just like to skate through life unnoticed and draw as little attention to myself as possible.”

“Oh, Wirt. You and shy go hand in hand,” Mrs. Daniels clucked fondly.

“Embrace your shy cuteness,” Mabel encouraged and Dipper’s head fell back on a laugh.

“No.” Wirt stared at her, unimpressed.

Old Lady Daniels glanced to Dipper. “Shy and sweet and cute, he may be, but he’s also stubborn as all get out. You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“That’s okay. He’s worth it.”

“Can we change the subject now? Please?”

Greg perked up, raising his hand. “I know! Old Lady Daniels! Where did all your rock facts rocks go?”

“My what?” She blinked at him, then chuckled when he reached into his pocket and revealed his rock. “Oh, those rocks. Well, I move them inside every now and then during the summer so they don’t fade. Plus they’re great company in my kitchen. Did your brother make you that one?”

“Uh-huh!” Greg slipped it back into his pocket. “Can I bring the other rocks back outside to play?”

“You certainly can, but only after you finish your popsicle.”

“Okay,” he agreed, quick in devouring the last of the grape-flavored ice. “Stay right here, Jason Funderburker. I’ll be right back.” He gave the frog a pat on the head, then darted inside.

Dipper shifted closer to his boyfriend, grin a little impish before he pressed a cherry-stained kiss to the corner of his pout.

Mabel beamed, but decided to say nothing and spare Wirt further embarrassment. Her smile shifted to Old Lady Daniels. “So you’re where he got his rock facts rock from?”

“I don’t know about any rock facts, but he has always adored those rocks with the faces. Margaret made them and would leave them around the garden for me to find. For Wirt, too. One surefire way to get a smile out of him was to go hunting for those rocks.” She winked at him and he shrugged.

“I don’t remember that, but I’ll take your word for it,” he replied.

“Don’t give me that. Of course you remember it! You’d line them up on the porch and count them all twice, all serious business for a serious child. Then Margaret would spoil you with a slice of cake before dinner if you found them all and steal you away from raking leaves,” she reminded him.

Wirt flashed her a grin. “I remember the cake.” When she scoffed at him, he leaned forward to catch Mabel’s eye. “But yeah, the rock facts rock he had in The Unknown was one from Mrs. Daniels’s garden. He took it without permission though and gave it back as soon as we were released from the hospital, but he missed it, so I found a rock and made him the one that he has now.”

Mrs. Daniels shook her head. “I would’ve let him keep it if he’d only asked. I swear, it’s times like that where I can see that you two are clearly cut from the same cloth. Wanting things and refusing to ask.”

“Hey, _I_ never took things without permission,” Wirt pointed out.

“No, but you’d stare at whatever it was you wanted with a sad little look in your eyes and your mouth in that awful pout that absolutely no one could resist. There it is.” She wagged her finger at him as Wirt put on his most pleading expression, eyebrows lifted as his eyes went big and round with a little quiver to his lip. “Look at that. Can’t say no to that face. The worst part was that it wasn’t even on purpose. You were never actually trying to get what you wanted.”

“That’s the trick to it.” He shifted so he was looking at Dipper, gaze flicking to his lips and up to his eyes.

His lips twitched, but he knew a challenge when he saw it so shook his head. “Not happening.”

Wirt’s shoulders slumped, gaze dropping to the ground to fixate on his shoes. “I don’t… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he murmured with a half-hearted shrug.

He _knew_ what Wirt was doing. Dipper knew, yet still caved. Unable to handle it, act or not, he cupped his boyfriend’s chin to lift his head and pressed their lips together. He made sure to nip his bottom lip in some sort of reprimand, but it was still giving in. “You’re the worst.”

Wirt laughed against his mouth, completely pleased with himself, but he still cupped the back of Dipper’s head and kissed back to thank him. “I’m sorry, I seriously don’t actually do that on purpose, I just wanted to try and see what happened.” With a scrunch to his nose, he rubbed it to Dipper’s. “You’re a good boyfriend.”

“He’s just as much of a sucker as you are, Wirt!” Greg observed, returning to the porch with an armful of rocks with faces. “Ob-waffle forever!”

“Hey, we are not suckers,” Wirt retorted, but he kept his eyes and smile on Dipper. “Or waffles.”

“Oh, you’re absolutely waffles,” Mabel disagreed. “Trust me. WAFIL is the most important part of ob-waffle.”

Dipper grinned, wriggling happily at the nose scrunch. It was too cute. He never should’ve admitted to liking it as much as he did, really. “There are worse things to be than waffles, I guess.”

“I suppose.” Wirt lit up and hugged his too cute boyfriend against his side. “At least we're not those stale muffins that one kid brings to class parties that no one likes. You know, the ones with the bran and raisins.”

Dipper laughed, nuzzling into Wirt’s neck. His lips left a red stain, but he only laughed more at that. Staying close, he sucked on his slowly melting popsicle. “We’re not burnt toast, either. A-plus all around.”

“We're a perfectly balanced breakfast.” Wirt rubbed the sticky stain as he chuckled, beaming at Dipper while he lapped at his own orange one. He made sure it stained his lips before giving him a sticky, orange-flavored kiss of his own to his neck.

“That feels so weird.” He laughed, licking his thumb to rub away the orange stain. Then leaned forward to catch his lips in a sticky-sweet kiss. It felt like summer to him. Popsicle-flavored kisses and the scent of freshly cut grass.

Wirt hummed into it, happy to taste the cherry on his lips and share the orange on his own in return. It was absolutely summer. “Sweetened by the summer sun, words whisper in the trees,‘What a time it is, what a time for love,’ trickles like raindrops through the leaves,” he recited his own poem to him, nuzzling his cheek. “By you my thoughts have been consumed, though artful and discreet. Cool breath of fresh air, you are to me in the midst of stifling heat.”

“I better see you kids back up in the trees along with those words. I think you’ve had enough fresh air to last you the rest of the afternoon,” Mrs. Daniels chuckled. “Hop to it. You’ve got a Giant Frog to hunt, after all.”

“Sure do!” Mabel chirped, absolutely thrilled. It had taken some time and some bumps, but ob-waffle was on track. Her brother was happily himself again, and Wirt was just as joyful. It was perfect!

Now they just had to track down a frog for Greg.

 

\----

 

It was a little illegal for a lot of reasons, but the twins were well-used to toeing that line. And this was for a mystery adventure, which made it necessary. At least Greg was all for it. Wirt had needed a little bit more coaxing to steal Jonathan’s mini-van in the middle of the night to attach a rowboat to the back. And since Dipper had more experience driving and knew where they were going, he was driving even though he still only had a permit and wasn’t even close to being on the insurance so if they crashed there wouldn’t be any sort of coverage and-

It had been a little difficult to convince Wirt. Dipper grinned at him, his glance brief before his gaze returned to the back window. They were at the lake now, and the cacophony of frogs - including Jason Funderburker, who had insisted on coming along - was proof enough that they were in the right place. They just had to finish getting the boat into the water and set sail, as it were.

“Keep going, keep going, keep- stop!” Mabel directed, the windows rolled down so Dipper could hear her as he backed the car down a ramp to deposit the rowboat. “Okay, come help me unload this thing.”

Dipper pushed the car into park, unclicking his seatbelt to help with just that.

Wirt followed suit, glancing about nervously as he stepped out of the car and shut the passenger side door behind him. “Can’t believe we’re actually doing this. We’re going to get caught. We’re so going to get caught and go to jail for stealing my step-dad’s car,” he muttered to himself, wringing his hands while Greg and Jason Funderburker hopped out of the back.

“At least it won’t be frog jail,” Greg pointed out, looking on the bright side of things.

The lines around Wirt’s eyes deepened as he stared incredulously at his younger brother. “Greg, I’d rather it be frog jail. Real jail is not preferable to frog jail.”

“Oh.”

“County jail is the worst,” Mabel put in with a shiver, not helping in the slightest.

“We’re not going to jail.” Dipper shook his head, helping Mabel release the boat from the trailer it was on.

Between them and Wirt, with Greg cheerleading on the side, they got it into the water and Mabel swept Greg up and settled him in before climbing in after. “High five for a mystery adventure, Greg!”

“Mystery adventure!” Greg slapped his palm to hers with a grin.

“Don’t forget to put on your life jacket, Greg,” Wirt reminded him, grabbing one from the bottom of the boat.

“Life jackets are for squares!”

Wirt narrowed his gaze, brow furrowed seriously. “No life jacket, no Giant Frog.”

“Life jackets are for adventurers!” Greg remedied, holding out his arms to let Wirt secure one across his chest.

Mabel giggled, holding the lucky frog while Greg got his jacket on and Dipper got back behind the wheel to park Jonathan’s car nearby and get his camera. He hopped into the boat with them, grabbing an oar while Mabel shuffled to grab the other, and the camera was offered to Wirt with a grin. “I think out of my other options, you’re the one I actually trust with this thing.”

Mabel huffed, offended. “The Gobblewonker was a long time ago, Dipper.”

“Not long enough.”

Wirt laughed and accepted the camera after slipping on his own life vest. “So you’re saying you wouldn’t trust me if there were less unpredictable options available to you?” he teased, sitting across from them as he checked the camera to make sure they were both in the frame. He grinned to himself and snapped a quick picture while Greg and Jason Funderburker wiggled on the seat beside him.

“Since I don’t know of any less unpredictable people, nope.” He and Mabel pushed against the cement of the boat ramp and they started off, the two of them falling into an easy rhythm with years of practice under their belts. “And you’re not even _that_ predictable.”

Wirt perked up, preening just a bit at that, though as the boat rocked through the water, he tightened his grip on the camera and made sure to tuck Greg close to his side as they got further out. It wasn’t bad, being in a boat, but it was hard to ignore being surrounded by deep, dark water in the middle of the night. He listened to the chorus of the croaking frogs, humming to himself so the vibration between his lips and the steady sound in his head could match them.

“When- uh… When do you want me to start recording?” Wirt cleared his throat as they approached the island.

“Whenever. The battery’s fully charged and there’s no telling when we’ll actually see something.” He wanted to reach out and try to soothe the nerves. “Hey, don’t worry. We’re not gonna let you fall in.”

“Of course not!” Mabel chimed.

“I- I know.” He felt color rise in his cheeks and was grateful for the cover of darkness as he flicked between the picture and video settings on the camera. “I don’t think I’m going to fall in.” Though his gaze gravitated back to the sloshing of the oars through the water, tension coiling around his heart. He shook his head and distracted himself by starting the recording.

“Dipper’s Guide to the Unexplained number eight million and three!” Greg chirped as he noticed the red light blink on.

“That’s not what number he’s on,” Wirt told him, lips unable to help quirking up as the tightness in his chest eased.

“I have no idea what number I’m on.”

“You never know what number we’re on,” Mabel teased.

“You know what? Just for that, we’re calling it eight million and three. It’s decided. New numbering system.” He stuck his tongue out at his twin and she mimicked him.

Wirt laughed as he watched them through the camera. “So the next one will be eight million and four?”

“Absolutely.”

“You’ll forget.”

“Nah.” His grin flashed, and he winked at Greg. “My honorary little brother’ll remind me.”

Greg gave him a thumbs up and Jason Funderburker croaked. “Yeah! Wait. What number are we on?”

“Eight million three,” he supplied with a laugh, quieting when he noticed ripples in the water that came from a different direction than their oars. He quietly gestured for Mabel to stop rowing and reached for the camera. He panned the water, but couldn’t see anything yet. The lens settled on Greg. “Alright, shortstop,” he began, the nickname slipping out with enough ease that he didn’t notice it, “what are we out here to see?”

Greg perked up, eyes and smile bright for Dipper through the camera as he left Jason Funderburker in his lap and threw his hands in the air. “The Giant Frog!”

“Bingo.” He panned over to Wirt, looking up from the viewfinder to grin at him. “Still holding up, pilgrim?”

Wirt’s amusement as he watched Greg faded as he noticed the camera on him. Blinking, his gaze flickered between Dipper’s face and the lens as he stiffened and waved his arms across his chest. “Wait, wait, you’re not recording _me_ , are you?”

“I might be.”

“Wirt, you’re already in one video. And you’re coming to Gravity Falls next summer, so you should probably get used to it.”

“My _voice_ was in one video. I,” he gestured to his face as his gaze fixated on Mabel and narrowed, “wasn’t actually in the video. Besides, nobody’s going to want to see me.”

“Dipper does,” Greg pointed out.

“That’s-” Wirt puffed up his cheeks a bit. “That’s different, and he can see me right now without recording me. He’s not even looking in the viewfinder.”

Dipper laughed. “When we’re back in California and I’m editing this, I’m so emailing this bit to you.” He stuck his tongue out at Wirt. “Be on the lookout for a file called ‘my pouty boyfriend.’”

His eyes widened as he gasped, brow furrowing immediately. “I’m not pouting. And you better delete that file. This. All of this.”

“I can’t do that. It’s against my artistic integrity or something like that.”

“What? No, it’s not. You’re just messing with me.” Wirt’s lips tightened into a pout once more, though this time he realized it and reflexively covered his mouth with his hand as his cheeks warmed. He left it there as his gaze dropped to the lens. “You’re not going to stop recording me, are you?” he sighed, voice only slightly muffled.

“I don’t think so. You’re really cute. The camera loves you.”

“More like the cameraman,” Mabel teased.

Dipper’s smile widened. “Yeah.”

Wirt’s eyes found Dipper’s, the annoyance fading as his stomach filled with butterflies, embarrassed delight taking it’s place. He lowered his hand as he glanced to the side, trying and failing to fight his own smile. “Yeah, well, I’m pretty fond of the cameraman, too.”

“See, now I really can’t delete it.”

Mabel laughed, giving Greg a thumbs-up. “Ob-waffle.”

“Ob-waffle.” He returned it with a grin.

“Fine.” Wirt rolled his eyes, smile growing as he fidgeted and glanced back at the lens. “You don’t have to delete it, just be mindful of what you end up including in your actual video. I can only imagine the comments.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you, man. Don’t worry.” He tilted the camera, aiming it at his sister.

“Massachusetts has a billion lakes.”

“And a billion frogs,” he added with a laugh, camera swiveling again when the boat rocked. He leaned down, dipping his fingertips into the water. “Slime,” he realized, wiggling a bit in his excitement. “We’re close.”

“It’s mucous, Dipper,” Greg corrected, also eagerly sticking his hand in the water while Wirt held tight to the other one as well as the seat.

“Don’t do that, Greg. You’ll scare the Giant Frog away if you splash too much,” Wirt reprimanded shakily.

“No I won’t. We’re kindred spirits, him and I.”

“Geez, corrected on my own channel. I’m totally cutting that out.”

Mabel giggled, shaking her head. “No, you won’t. You’re too lazy.”

“I’ll turn this boat around,” he warned, sticking out his tongue at her. Then he glanced back towards the brothers. “Get your hand off the slime - I’m calling it slime, and you can’t stop me - so you can have a turn with the camera, Greg.”

“Whoa!” Greg wiped his hand on his shorts, then reached for the camera with grabby hands. “You mean I get a chance to be behind the scenes?”

“Yeah, man. You’re part of the crew, corporal. Just don’t throw it into the water like _some_ people.”

“That was Soos more than it was me, and you know it.”

“‘More than’ does not make you innocent, Mabel. I had _seventeen_ cameras! Seven. Teen. You know how many we had at the end of the day?” he asked. “One. We had one.”

“It takes a special talent to lose sixteen cameras in one day,” Wirt mused.

“Don’t you worry, Admiral Dipper. I’ll take real good care of your camera.” He lifted it up and looked through it so Dipper could be in the frame, smile fading a bit as he hummed to himself, then perked back up again. “And not like that time I took care of Mabel’s camera and lost it. That time doesn’t count.”

“You didn’t lose it,” Mabel reminded him. “It fell and you went right after it. It’s different.” And still terrifying if she thought too much on it. “But if you drop Dipper’s camera, don’t go after it. He can get it himself.”

“Thanks, Mabel.” His eyes rolled. “There’s a reason I grabbed the waterproof one.”

“I'll make sure he doesn't chuck it into the water or anything still. Waterproof or not.” Wirt glanced over at him as Greg wiggled about to get him and Dipper on camera together.

“Ob-waffle Cam! Be cute boyfriends!” he told them.

Wirt pursed his lips, gaze drifting to his indeed very cute boyfriend. “Um...”

Dipper grinned. “We’re always cute.” The boat was small enough for him to reach out and tug Wirt forward by his sweater. A breath away from his lips, though, he shifted to press the kiss to his cheek.

A laugh bubbled out of him and he tilted his head back to shoot him an unimpressed look. “You can be cuter than that,” he told him, arms looping around his shoulders.

“I don’t know. I might need help.” His lips traveled to the bridge of his nose. “My pretty poet.”

“Don’t know how much help I’ll be.” Wirt’s nose scrunched reflexively, gaze following his lips when he pulled back.

Feeling the eye of the camera on them made him squirm, eyes tempted to find the lens to know where it was looking exactly, but he glanced at Dipper’s instead. They were dark, like the lake water in the night, but he wasn’t afraid when he looked into them. If anything it was very easy to lose himself to them, to relax and pretend that this was their ideal and romantic date on a boat under the starry sky. His arms tightened around him, fingers curling in the hair that was peeking out from underneath his cap, and he leaned forward, helpless to the pull of him as he pressed their lips together on a pleased sigh.

Dipper knew Wirt was nervous on the boat and uncomfortable with being on film, so the kiss was a warm sort of surprise. Content to enjoy it, he lifted a hand to his cheek, angling his head to steadily deepen the contact and let it spin out until their boat bumped land.

Mabel giggled, smile flicking from them to Greg. Ob-waffle cam was perfect. “We're gonna have to edit so much of this.”

“It’s worth it,” Greg put in, giggling as Wirt hummed his agreement against Dipper’s lips. “Okay, that’s enough kissing, guys. We have a Giant Frog to find. You can do more boyfriend things after we find him.”

“I don’t know, I think we can manage both, don’t you?” Wirt let their kiss end slowly, punctuating it with a light peck. “How good are you at multitasking, boyfriend?”

“I’m great at multitasking. We can absolutely do more boyfriend things while tracking a frog.”

“Perfect. See, Greg?” Wirt released Dipper and leaned back in his seat, shooting his little brother a smug look that flickered to the camera lens for a moment. “You’re looking at a pair of frog hunting boyfriends.”

“The ultimate power couple,” Greg laughed, zooming in on the two of them, then zipped away to scan for the Giant Frog.

Dipper shook his head, carefully get out of the boat to get it more securely on land. “Look at the frogs, Greg. They’re all moving in the same direction.”

“Jason Funderburker’s looking at them too,” Mabel realized.

Greg turned the camera onto him. The trusty, lucky frog was certainly watching them very closely, eyes wide and unblinking as he stared, but he made no move to join them. As if sensing the eyes on him, he turned his head and blinked at the lens. _Ribbit._ Despite not leaping out to follow the frogs, Wirt scooped up Jason Funderburker in Greg’s stead and scratched his back lightly.

Satisfied that their frog was safe for now, Greg focused the camera on the parade of frogs. “Oh, they’re going to the island to see a Giant Frog and ask him if he has a way to send them back where they came from. They don’t know who he is or how he is or when, what, why he is, but as for where he is, he is where they will go. Giant Frog, oh Giant Frog, frogs on parade to see the Giant Frog. Giant Frog, oh Giant Frog. We’re following the frogs to find him tonight.”

“That was pretty good,” Wirt commented, tucking Jason Funderburker under one arm as he held out his free hand to help Greg hop out of the boat and onto the bank.

“Thanks!” Greg took the camera to the frogs to get a closer look. “What do you think he’s saying to make them all want to go see him? Is it like how the Frog Fly used its mind powers to get frogs to go to it so it could eat them?” He gasped suddenly, whirling the camera around so it was pointed at Dipper. “The Giant Frog’s not going to eat them, is he? That’s cannibalism!”

Mabel made a face, joining them while Dipper laughed. “Cannibalism is no laughing matter, Dipper.”

He grinned. “No, the Giant Frog is not eating the other frogs. There would be a heck of a lot less frogs if that was the case. They’re just following him like... Like he’s their protector or a god, kind of.”

“Oh. Phew. That’s a relief.” Greg grinned back at him, then laughed as Wirt tripped on his way out of the boat and nearly fell on his face as he clutched their frog.

Face hot, the older brother glowered at him. “You better not have gotten that on tape.”

“Don’t worry, I had it on Dipper,” he giggled. “But it’s not like it’s a secret that you’re really clumsy.”

“Oh, please. There’s been a lot worse acts of clumsy than you falling out of a boat, Wirt! Dipper’s not exactly a walking form of grace either.”

“Thanks, Mabel.”

“Anytime, bro-bro!”

“Yeah, well, I don’t exactly want my nonexistent grace captured on film for the world to see.” Wirt went over to Greg and held Jason Funderburker out to him. “Here, I’ll trade you. Our frog for the camera.”

“Deal.” They swapped with zero complaint on Greg’s end as he snuggled their frog.

“If he falls over holding the camera, we’re not editing it out,” Mabel decided.

Dipper bit his lip, fighting a grin, and just had to turn away. “So let’s follow the frogs.”

“Mystery Best Friends are on the case!” Greg hurried ahead after the frogs without waiting for the teens, singing his revised song once again as he bounded through the brush.

“Greg, don’t just go running off!” Wirt called after him, frowning as his heart stuttered and he pushed on after him. The island wasn’t big, the smallest of the three on Long Pond, but it was dark and watching him disappear beyond a group of trees was not something that his already rattled nerves needed to fixate on.

“I’m not! I’m following the frogs like Admiral Dipper said!” Greg answered, but didn’t double back to wait for them.

Dipper caught him first, swinging him and Jason Funderburker up onto his shoulders. “Okay, shortstop, rule one of mystery adventures is ‘don’t give Wirt a heart attack.’ Okay? None of us have ever seen this thing, so you’ve gotta stick close.”

Greg’s cheeks puffed up in a pout. “But _everything_ pretty much gives him a heart attack,” he complained. “And I want to see the Giant Frog. If he doesn’t eat people or frogs, then he can’t be bad, right?”

While he wouldn’t willingly and knowingly take either Palmer-Whelan brother into a dangerous situation, he’d been around the paranormal long enough to know that all that glittered was not gold. This could be a complete disaster. He didn’t think it would be, as all signs pointed to a grand adventure, but he wasn’t about to risk his honorary little brother on that.

“Well, it wouldn’t really be fair if you got to see it first. Cameraman Wirt’s gotta record the reactions, and we wouldn’t want to miss yours since this adventure’s all for you.”

Greg leaned forward to look down at him. “I thought it was for you, too. And Mabel and Wirt, but mostly you.”

“You know, Greg, as much as I love a good mystery, this one’s for you. A frog hunt for the coolest little brother a guy could ask for.”

His face lit up with absolute delight, then turned thoughtful as he gave the top of Dipper’s head a pat. “Well… I guess the coolest little brother wouldn’t give his other big brother a heart attack, huh? Okay. I won’t run ahead, Dipper. But you can still carry me if you want.”

He tossed a grin at Wirt as he and Mabel caught up, his sister giving him a thumbs-up. “Yeah, I’ll keep carrying you.”

“Forward march!” Greg pointed ahead of them, Jason Funderburker chiming in with a croak.

Wirt sighed a little, shoulders relaxing at the sight of both of them, though he left his arm linked with Mabel’s as they followed them, the camera in his other hand. He aimed it at Dipper’s grin, then Greg’s, then Mabel as she laughed and waved, then focused on the path the frogs were taking. It led them deeper into the cover of the trees, the frogs seeming to converge at the center of the island.

The croaking only grew louder the closer they got, echoing in the night, the voices of dozens of frogs rising together. _Round the shimmering pond all are joining in song, as they carry their revelry on._ The lyrics came to Wirt unbidden as he recalled the ferry boat filled with finely dressed frogs and their appreciation for the bassoon. He wondered if this was a song of sorts. The frogs calling out to their so-called frog god, or singing praises or something. He glanced at Jason Funderburker, focusing the camera on the frog in case he did something different from the other frogs. It was no secret that their frog was special, after all.

Jason Funderburker wasn’t croaking along with the others, not until he felt the camera on him and turned to blink at Wirt through the lens. _Ro-rop._ “Hm.” Nothing unusual, but Wirt would keep an eye on him nonetheless.

The ground suddenly sloped dramatically, the three teens coming to a stop at the edge. In the center of the small, valley-like divot in the island, all the frogs had gathered. Clustered together in a circle, pressed so close some were perched on each other’s backs, all their heads were angled towards one focal point. Right in the middle of the average, everyday-Lakeville, Massachusetts frogs was what could only be described as a giant frog.

“Oh my gosh.” Wirt gaped at the creature that was roughly the size of a small house basically chilling in the middle of the dirt. It was one thing to imagine a giant frog, but to actually see it was something else entirely. “What even…?”

“Wow!” Greg’s excited exclamation was hushed as he reached down to pat Dipper’s cheek repeatedly. “Dipper, Dipper, look! It’s the Giant Frog and it’s _giant_!”

He closed the eye above that cheek, letting out a laugh despite himself. “It’s kind of hard to miss, shortstop. I see it.”

“It’s so neat!” Mabel gasped, taking the camera from Wirt to try and get the entire creature in frame. And, of course, she was quick to capture the reactions of all three boys. It croaked and the ground rattled beneath their feet.

Greg laughed and Wirt was quick to grab onto Dipper’s arm as his eyes rounded. “How- how does something like that get around and _no one_ notice?”

“We noticed! Mystery Best Friends always notice the… uh… unnoticeable!” Greg nodded, grinning at the camera, then down at his brother. “Scared, Wirt?”

“No.” Wirt puffed up his cheeks, but had yet to release his boyfriend.

“Don’t worry, man. Crazier stuff than this goes unnoticed.” Dipper untangled himself to loop his arm around Wirt’s waist.  “But I can protect you from the big, bad frog.”

“I’m not scared of the big, bad frog,” he replied with a huff and left Dipper’s arm exactly where it was. Because he liked it there, not because it made him feel better or anything because it was just a frog. A giant frog, yes, but a frog just the same. “It seems like a very nice frog. Sitting with all its little frog friends, having a nice… frog time.” It croaked again and Wirt’s shoulders bristled, relaxing when Jason Funderburker ribbited in response, the lucky frog appearing more or less at ease with this whole situation.

“We don’t often have humans who draw so close to our... frog time,” was said softly, almost too softly for a creature so large.

“Holy crap, it does talk,” Dipper breathed. “He,” he corrected quickly. “He talks. Wow.”

“Oh my gosh.” Wirt’s hands fisted in Dipper’s shirt, pressed up close to him as he attempted to huddle behind him without losing the arm around his waist.

Greg simply grinned and waved. “Hi, Giant Frog! Hope you don’t mind us interrupting frog time, but we wanted to come see you!”

“You brought someone with you.”

“We brought a lot of someones! There’s me, I’m Greg, and then there’s Admiral Dipper here. And Wirt and Mabel and Jason Funderburker!” Greg pointed each member of their party out.

Dipper smiled, pleased to be the only one listed with their rank. “I think he meant we brought Jason Funderburker.”

“Ro-rop.”

“Oh!” Greg lit up, beaming at the large amphibian. “Do you know Jason Funderburker? He’s our lucky frog! Me and Wirt found him and named him for good luck and now he’s our family.”

The croak he let out sounded like a laugh, and Dipper held Wirt a little tighter to keep his shaking self from falling. “Then he has done well for himself, small one. All seek family.”

“Is that why you’re always hopping around all of Massachusetts and migrating? Are you looking for family?” Greg asked, leaning forward with interest.

“You see my family around you.” _ROROP._ “I am a guide, small one, leading others towards home.”

“No wonder Jason Funderburker didn’t hop away,” Mabel mused. “He already has his home.”

Dipper considered a moment, fiddling with the bill of his hat as he weighed this decision. He took Jason Funderburker off his hat, holding the lucky frog in the crook of his arm so he could remove the pine tree cap and fit it over Greg’s head. “Your show, Greg. Ask as many questions as the frog’ll let you.”

Wide-eyed, Greg touched the bill of the cap reverently. “Really? I get to ask the questions?”

He glanced at Wirt, grinning, and hiked Greg a little more firmly onto his shoulders. “Yeah.”

“Oh boy! Um… hm…” Greg tapped his chin in thought as Wirt eased out a bit from behind Dipper and offered him a small smile in return, slowly relaxing to the presence of the giant talking frog. “Do you have to find really big bugs to eat or do you mostly eat a lot of little ones?”

Wirt grinned at his little brother’s questions, reminded of not so long ago where it had been Dipper he’d been asking a barrage of random questions. He glanced over at Mabel, their now official camerawoman, and shared a smile with her. This was good. Seeing that the unusual wasn’t always something to be afraid of while in his own backyard was good for Greg. Probably good for him, too, in a way.

His attention was drawn back to his brother when he asked a pretty interesting question. “How do all the frogs know to find you? How do you guide them? We never hear you croaking and you have a _really_ loud croak so I think we would.”

The frog blinked, another one of those croaks rattling them, but it was Dipper who answered. “It’s because you’re nocturnal, isn’t it? During the day, you sleep - probably underwater since you’ve never been seen in the daytime, and the croaks wouldn’t carry out of the water during the day. And then at night...”

His tongue ran along his teeth and he glanced at Wirt, grin and eyes bright with discovery and realization. “There’ve been so many frogs croaking at night that I don’t think it’s surprising that no one’s heard you.”

Wirt’s heart fluttered, grin shifting into something that was all fondness. “That makes sense,” he agreed, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt. “Something big being covered up by a lot of smaller things, but all part of the same puzzle. Not to mention the more isolated a place is, like this island, the less likely people are going to hear them. And frogs can hear underwater, so if he’s croaking while he’s submerged, then other frogs would still be able to hear him.”

“Really?” Greg blinked down at both of them.

“Yeah. They can use the vibrations of their croaks to communicate,” Wirt clarified for him, then shrugged. “It’s like a form of echolocation, I think.”

“Neat!” Mabel chimed, turning the camera on herself to give a thumbs-up. “Good thing we have big old dorks here to help explain things!”

Lips twitching, Dipper sent her an unimpressed look. “Thanks, Mabel.”

“You’re welcome!”

“Even dorks can be heroes.” Greg nodded solemnly, hat slipping down over his eyes. He pushed it back up as a yawn stretched his jaw, the late hour finally starting to affect the seven-year-old. “This is probably one of the best things I’ve ever done ever,” he decided, hugging the top of Dipper’s head. “Thanks, Dipper.”

“Anytime, little brother.” Dipper bumped his shoulder to Wirt’s. “Think we should start heading home? Jason Funderburker looks pretty tired.”

“Oh yeah.” Wirt glanced to the lucky frog, smile tugging at his lips. “Our frog is ready for bed alright.”

“He is?” Greg leaned down to try and get a good look for himself. Jason Funderburker blinked at him, then closed his eyes and left them like that. “Hm. Well, if Jason Funderburker’s tired, we shouldn’t keep him up. He needs his rest.”

“Good call, Greg,” Wirt praised as he rubbed his little brother’s back. “Say goodbye to the Giant Frog.”

Greg lifted one hand to wave. “Bye, Giant Frog. It was nice to meet you.”

The Giant Frog bellowed out a farewell croak that the other frogs echoed in their own chorus as the little group turned to go. With excitement of discovery and curiosity fading as both were adequately filled, Greg started to nod off on Dipper’s shoulders, pine tree cap slipping from the child’s head as he started to slump forward. Wirt caught it, dusting off the worn relic with care, thumb brushing over the pine tree emblem idly before offering it to his boyfriend.

“Trade you. Hat for the little brother.”

It allowed Greg to sleep a bit more comfortably - though he protested that just because he had his eyes closed, that did not mean he was sleeping - and it also allowed Dipper to focus on closing words for the video, directing them towards Mabel and the camera while keeping Jason Funderburker tucked under one arm. Wirt fell back a few steps as they continued walking and hiked Greg up so his cheek was nestled on his shoulder, smiling to himself as his little brother wrapped his arms around his neck.

“Hey, Wirt?” he slurred sleepily against his sweater.

“Yeah?” Wirt rubbed his back when there was a pause, listening for his brother’s question. “Greg?”

“Thanks for letting us go on the frog hunt even though your dad upset you earlier.”

Wirt’s footsteps faltered, the conversation with his dad having faded from his mind with the yard work in Mrs. Daniels’s garden. “Oh, Greg-” He pursed his lips against the crack in his voice.

“I know you just wanted to wallow in misery. Like with the last frog hunt. So thank you for not. Thank you for pretending to be happy today.”

“I wasn’t pretending.” Wirt pressed his face into Greg’s hair, a wealth of guilt swimming in his stomach. _It’s my fault we ended up here. Everything’s been my fault._ “I’m never pretending when it’s you or Dipper or Mabel, okay? I promise, Greg. I’m glad we went on the frog hunt. I wanted to. I always want to spend time with you, okay?”

“Even when you go off by yourself to wallow?”

A wet chuckle found its way from his chest. “Yeah. Even when I wallow. Sometimes I just need to be by myself for a little while, but I can guarantee that when I do, I would one hundred percent rather be doing something fun with you. And that’s a rock fact.”

Greg nuzzled him, growing heavier in his arms as he drifted off. “That’s a good rock fact…”

“Yeah, I thought so.” Wirt smiled into his hair, then pressed a kiss to it.

“Love you, Wirt.”

Like with Dipper, like with anyone who mattered apparently, the words dried up in his throat and he could do nothing but squeeze his little brother tightly in return. “Get some sleep, Greg. I’ll wake you up if we see anything else supernatural on our way home.”

“You better…”

He was asleep by the time they got back to the boat, camera off and set aside as they each climbed into the little row boat. Wirt kept Greg in his lap, letting him sleep while Jason Funderburker hopped over to nestle against his side. He scratched the frog’s back lightly and received a gentle croak for his care. Mabel got in after him, taking up her oar as her brother pushed the boat into the water and hopped in as it started to drift. Dipper settled across from Wirt, their knees brushing as the male twin picked up his oar. The two of them exchanged glances, Wirt’s soft smile hesitating at something rippling across Dipper’s face in the moonlight before he returned it with a grin of his own and Wirt wondered just how much of his and Greg’s conversation he’d heard.

Or maybe he hadn’t heard it at all and he was just tired.

Or maybe it did bother him that he hadn’t told him that he loved him yet.

As they rowed away from the island to the chorus of croaking still wafting up on the air from it, the stars bright and clear overhead and beneath them in the water, the moon vibrant at the late hour, the lapping of lake water against the oars soft and soothing now, Wirt considered letting the words float from his tongue. Romantic night on a lake, siblings aside, it was an ideal setting for a person inclined to poetry such as himself. He rubbed his lips together, testing the weight of the words in the back of his throat.

_I love you._ His heart swelled with the words as his head reminded him of the fear, years spent being carved into his consciousness. _No one wants love from someone who doesn’t deserve it._ _Who lies about it. Who says it when he doesn’t mean it._

_You don’t love your dad, but you told him you did anyway. What’s stopping you from doing the same to Dipper? To Greg and Mabel? You could lie about loving them. You can lie like it’s_ nothing _. How can Dipper trust and love someone who_ lies _like you?_

Wirt swept the voice in his head away and the words along with it for now. He grounded himself with the feel of Dipper’s knee against his and Greg’s sleepy warmth against his chest, his even breaths encouraging his to match, the contact a good combatant to things he wanted far away from this moment. They’d found themselves their giant frog, a successful adventure for the Mystery Best Friends.

Still able to hear the croaking alongside the splish of the oars, Wirt began to hum a now familiar tune, murmuring the words quietly as they drifted on the water. “At night when the lake is a mirror, and the moon rides its waves to the shore…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that there will be no updates for LCOL next week, but we'll be back with new chapters soon!


	16. Chapter 16

August was upon them.

It felt like they’d blinked and July was gone. Two and a half weeks blown by and scattered to the banks of their memories like dandelion seeds. Two weeks ago a month had seemed endless. A month had been an eternity compared to three days or a week. A month had been more than enough.

With August’s arrival, Wirt came to the realization that a month wasn’t nearly enough. What had started out as novelty shifted into normalcy. As odd as it had been to have someone other than his little brother share his bed, now he couldn’t imagine his body filling up the space on its own. He couldn’t imagine opening his closet and not finding Dipper’s trademark vest and collection of t-shirts. He couldn’t imagine playful tussles over whether or not to watch a Ghost Harassers marathon or an Addicted to Rehab marathon on HGTV being stripped away from him, even if they almost always ended in Wirt letting Dipper choose the show, providing that Dipper let him use his lap as a pillow. He couldn’t imagine practicing the clarinet without dreamy, lovestruck eyes watching his every move instead of practicing his sousaphone along with him.

He couldn’t imagine a him without Dipper. Not anymore. Or, well, he could. If he tried hard enough, he most certainly could.

But he didn’t want to.

He wasn’t ready.

They’d only been boyfriends for a month - less than that if they only started counting from the day Wirt called him that. Two weeks. Their month was over half-done. They had a week. They were back to one week.

Unfortunately this one lacked the euphoria their first week had. Desperate not to waste any of their remaining time with petty grievances over how unfair it was that they lived on opposite coasts - because that was the way things were, there was no changing that - Wirt kept most of these thoughts confined to a notebook, his musings filling page after page, some poetry, most not, when insomnia came calling, his not as debilitating as his boyfriend’s bout. Trauma hadn’t caused his, only the racing of his thoughts and the need to savor every minute he had left.

Because after this, who knew when he would see him again? He wouldn’t be able to wait until next June, he already knew that. The wait between October to June this past year had been excruciating enough and he hadn’t even known him or Mabel then, not really. August to June, when he loved both of them more than he could say - a true enough sentiment, he couldn’t say it to either of them, he couldn’t even say it to his own brother - would be unbearable. While this month had been so necessary for them, while he wouldn’t trade it for anything, Wirt couldn’t help but wonder if it also did them harm in allowing them to become as comfortable with each other as they had.

Parting in Gravity Falls had seemed possible. Dipper and Mabel leaving Lakeville, city of lakes, seemed anything but. Wirt didn’t want it to be.

The Sunday of their last week, August second, with exactly seven days left found the boys in Wirt’s bedroom, both of them squeezed onto his bed, lying over the green comforter. They’d gone to the library the day before, all four of them, and had returned with a spread of books. Wirt had come away with two poetry books and two of fiction, taking the time to invest himself in Robert Frost while Dipper tapped away at his laptop, pausing every now and then to read up on something, his journals spread out over the both of them. Journal number three was open on Wirt’s stomach, two sandwiched in the sliver of a crevice between their thighs, and one was open, face-down, on Dipper’s chest.

It was the start of a lazy summer afternoon, Wirt balancing his attentions between the verses of Frost and the cadence of Dipper’s breaths as he muttered to himself, unintelligible words hissing between his teeth as they worked on the plastic casing of a pen. The sun was making its way over the house, soon to be shedding its rays through his window and onto the bed. It was easy enough to pretend this wasn’t the start of the end.

Even after three weeks, it was odd to not have a million things chasing Dipper or having a million things to chase after. It was odd not to have Grunkle Stan shouting at them to come downstairs for the latest chore or to have Soos making the oddest bets with him or to have Wendy rolling her eyes at him.

It was still weird to have quiet. Even his twin was off, exploring the town with Greg in the basket of her bicycle. It was the middle of the day - passed it, really - and he was just able to breathe and relax. This, he supposed, was what summers had been before Gravity Falls. Almost.

He looked up from his research, peering at Wirt. His lips moved a little as he read Robert Frost, as though he were tasting the words and the way they flowed. It was adorable and a little more interesting as he hit a lull in his research. He was pretty sure he knew just how they were going to tug aside the veil. It was probably going to hurt like crazy; there was no way around that for him. He wasn’t a proper medium, after all, or even a witch, so he wasn’t designed to be able to hold the veil back. But it was possible, and he would do it for Wirt. And for Greg and, well, for Mabel too. Maybe a little bit for himself.

Decision made - no pain, no gain - Dipper began to steadily inch closer until he could nuzzle and snuggle his boyfriend to distraction. The first journal was set to the side with his laptop, the second closed and nudged closer to the foot of the bed with his foot, and the third shut when he gave up on subtlety and rolled onto his side to lightly nip his neck.

Shimmying up, tossing a leg over one of his boyfriend’s, he kissed the top of Wirt’s nose and grinned a little when it wrinkled. “You’re lucky. You know that?”

“Hm?” He finally lowered his book, turning his head to give Dipper the attention he’d been clearly trying to get. “What? What do you mean?”

“You and just-” He leaned back a bit to wave his hands. “Just all this. Normal summer stuff.”

Wirt’s lips quirked up in a half-smile. “Not too boring for you?”

Dipper tugged his book away, marking the page for him before rolling on top of him entirely. Comfortable with him, he discarded his cap to keep it out of the way so he could hide his face in Wirt’s neck. “I think... I think I really needed some boring. Giant frogs aside, you know?”

Looping his arms around Dipper’s waist, Wirt brushed his lips right beneath his ear. “I can give you boring. I can give you that in spades,” he murmured, smile turning a little sad as he tightened his hold. “That I can promise.”

Dipper huffed out a laugh, fingers curling into Wirt’s sweater. While the nightmares had once again slipped away, he was still wary of their return when they left. He was wary of a lot of things that came with leaving. Losing this - lazy summer afternoons cuddled close - was high up there. Topping the list was simply knowing that he wouldn’t be able to see him after a week. He wouldn’t be able to reach out and find Wirt there. He felt no more ready than he had when he’d had to stand on the porch of the Shack and watch them drive away.

“You’re too interesting to be boring. Your town’s one thing, but not you.” He sighed. “Will you do me a really lame favor, and read to me? Frost’s not bad and I just... I like the way you sound when you read.”

“Oh. You do?” Wirt squirmed some, stopping only when he realized it disrupted Dipper’s hold on him, choosing instead to avert his gaze as if looking for the book he’d taken from him while he traced meaningless circles against his back. “Um… yeah. Yeah, I can read to you.”

“Cool. You get, like, this poetry voice when you read. I like it.” He was going to miss it.

“Poetry voice?” He scrunched his nose as he felt around for the book, tapping the binding against Dipper’s back to get him to move enough so he could keep him in his arms and still be able to read. “I didn’t- I mean, it’s not something I’m doing on purpose or anything. How is it different from my normal voice?” His normal voice cracked just then, and he made a face at himself. Well, there was one way. His voice never cracked when he read poetry. Not if he was engrossed enough in it.

Dipper snorted, ducking his head. “Don’t worry about it. There’s just something about it that’s different.”

“Hm.” Wirt puffed up his cheeks a little as he looked at him with a discerning eye. “Okay, if you say so. Let’s see… there was one I just read that I really liked…” He opened the book to the page Dipper had marked for him, then flipped back two. He licked his lips and cleared his throat, glancing at him once more before starting.

“‘Tree at my window, window tree,  
My sash is lowered when night comes on;  
But let there never be curtain drawn  
Between you and me.

“‘Vague dream-head lifted out of the ground,  
And thing next most diffuse to cloud,  
Not all your light tongues talking aloud  
Could be profound.

“‘But tree, I have seen you taken and tossed,  
And if you have seen me when I slept,  
You have seen me when I was taken and swept  
And all but lost.

“‘That day she put our heads together,  
Fate had her imagination about her,  
Your head so much concerned with outer,  
Mine with inner, weather.’”

Dipper pressed a kiss to his neck. “When I’m in Piedmont, I’m going to call you some nights and just ask you to read to me. Prepare for that.”

“That doesn’t sound like too demanding of a request. I think I can manage that.” Wirt tilted his head to brush his lips over his bangs. “And I’m going to call you… window tree.” He flashed him a grin, wrapping both legs around Dipper’s.

With a laugh, Dipper nipped his neck instead and wriggled closer. “No way. Never that.”

“Don’t draw a curtain between us, Dipper,” Wirt snickered, doing his part to press up against him. “Not that one would be able to fit. I don’t think there’s any way anything could fit between us right now.”

There’d be too much distance soon. “Good.” He grinned, tilting his head back to brush kisses along his jaw and pushing aside the melancholy mood trying to take hold of him. It wasn’t like they were leaving that day.  

“Mmhm.” A contented smile spread lazily over his lips as he let him lavish his attention on him. “Want to hear another one?” Wirt asked him, the hand not holding his book stroked along Dipper’s side.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Dipper shimmied upwards, catching his earlobe between his teeth.

Wirt huffed out a laugh, cheeks warming. “Hey, stop. I won’t be able to focus on reading if you keep doing that.”

“Sure you will. A poetic pilgrim perseveres.” But he did stop, kissing his cheek instead.

“Not when he has an adorable and irresistable boyfriend to kiss,” Wirt pointed out, turning to the next page.

“Well, you're not kissing me, which is starting to be a real problem.”

“Is it?” He turned his head to capture his lips. “That fix it?”

“Mm. It's a good start. But two's better.”

“Can’t argue there.” Wirt kissed him again, letting the contact between them linger as he deepened it by degree, as if each moment they spent kissing would prolong the time they had left together.

It ended as telltale laughter and pounding footsteps could be heard in the hallway. Sighing, Dipper tucked his face into the crook of Wirt’s neck. “Five bucks says they’re coming in here.”

Before Wirt could respond the bedroom door flew open, with Greg attached to the handle with Mabel right behind him. “Wirt! Dipper!” He grinned at them as the frog under his arm croaked. “Get your lazy bums out of bed! We’re going on an adventure!”

The older brother arched an eyebrow as he looked at the pair of them. “Oh yeah? Says who?”

“Says Sara!”

Not the answer he expected, Wirt blinked twice and lifted his head up off the pillow to see them better. “Sara?”

“Yes Sara!” Mabel held up her phone, wiggling it. “Somebody - and by somebody I mean you, Wirt - has been ignoring his phone!”

Wirt blinked, then glanced over at his silenced phone sitting on the nightstand. “Yeah, well, I didn’t want to be interrupted.” Not to mention the last time they’d hung out with his friends had ended in a panic attack for Dipper and several days’ worth of tension that he wasn’t too keen on reliving. Not with only a week left. He could see his friends whenever once school started. He wouldn’t be able to see Dipper.

“Luckily you have a little sister who’s more than willing to drag you into the wonderful world outside!”

“I don’t think ‘luckily’ is the right word, Mabel.”

“You think too much and too incorrectly. But come on! Trevor apparently doesn’t believe that you’re as good a pitcher as I told him you were, and Sara got her hands on a radar gun. You haven’t gotten in much practice, Dipdop. You know you want to,” she sing-songed.

Dipper wriggled a bit, suddenly restless. “Mm.”

Wirt pursed his lips in thought and glanced down at his suddenly squirmy boyfriend. “Do you want to?”

“Kind of. I guess. Some.”

“Hm.” Wirt closed his book. He supposed, for a guy that liked to be as busy as Dipper, going out and physically doing something probably held a lot of appeal. Especially since it involved baseball. Even though Jonathan had put up the target out back, Wirt knew it probably wasn’t the same as having someone catch for you. “We can go. If you want. And I don’t know… it’d be fun to watch you pitch.”

“Of course it will be! That’s why I already said yes and they’re expecting us in, um, ten minutes.”

“Oh my god.”

“Come on, boys! Like Greg said, get your lazy butts up! Grab your glove, bro-bro! We’re going to make Trevor eat those words.” Mabel looked down at her phone, smile wide. “Isabelle’s looking forward to that.”

“Isabelle’s a fan of anything that makes Trevor look like a dolt,” Wirt snorted, untangling his legs from Dipper’s as he prodded him in the side to get him moving. “He’s totally only saying that to get someone to play baseball with him. It doesn’t matter to him if you’re good or not, he’s just desperate.”

“I won’t hurt him, then. We’ll have to make him wear some extra padding in his mitt.” Dipper rolled out of bed, set his laptop on the desk and left the journals scattered on the mattress behind him.

Mabel giggled. “Sara just wants to see if you’re half as good at baseball as you are at pool.”

“Oh my god. Are you texting, like, all of them right now?”

“Yes.” She showed him her phone and he rolled his eyes.

“I don’t get how you’re basically best friends with all of them. You even have the dweeb in here! _Mabel_!”

“I keep telling you he’s not a dweeb. He’s harmless. And you know, it’s like dad says. You’d be their friend too if you’d just-” She broke off, both twins faltering for a moment. “I’ll give them your number.”

“Sure. Not the dweeb,” he insisted, snagging a baseball and his ball glove from the top of Wirt’s dresser.

“Oh my gosh, Dipper. You’re so mean.”

Wirt fumbled with his laces, having pulled on two different pairs of shoes, distracted by trying hard not to listen to what they weren’t saying in the conversation while actually, totally listening. “I- I’d rather you not give Jason Funderberker his number, too, Mabel. So… uh… do it for me? Not- not to be mean or anything, but just because…”

“Because of your crippling insecurities?” Greg piped up unhelpfully.

Wirt stared at him for a beat, unimpressed by his deduction. “I wouldn’t put it like _that_ , exactly, but I guess.”

“Don’t worry Wirt, you’ve got tons of stuff that Jason Funderberker doesn’t have!” Greg puffed out his chest. “Like the best little brother in the world. He doesn’t have that.”

Having expected something a little more along the lines of his internal strengths, Wirt couldn’t help the small hitch of a laugh. “Right. You’ve got a point there, Greg. You’re obviously my greatest asset.”

“That’s right. And obviously Dipper’s not going to date somebody who doesn’t have me for a little brother, so you don’t have to worry about Jason Funderberker whisking him away. Right, Dipper?” Greg grinned at him, hoping to bring the fun back into the air for all of them.

“Yeah, Greg. It’s got nothing to do with me liking his cute face and his poetry and his interesting mind.” He grabbed his own sneakers, tugging at the heel since he never bothered to untie them. “I’m totally dating him so you can stay my honorary little brother.”

Hands on his hips, Greg looked back to Wirt. “See?”

“Yeah.” But Wirt’s head was angled away, his cheeks and the tips of his ears red as he smiled shyly. “I see your point. Still don’t want Dipper’s number in Jason Funderberker’s phone though.”

“Fair enough,” Greg conceded.

“I wasn’t going to anyway,” Mabel assured them. “I just texted it to Sara and Trevor to start.”

“May as well send it to Isabelle and Taylor, too. Not like any of them are actually going to-” Dipper broke off, eyes going round as he tugged his phone from his pocket. “Oh.”

“And sent.” Mabel put her phone away, hips swishing side to side in delight. “Now come on, come on! Dipper, you can program them into your phone later. Let’s go!”

Wirt stood up, his hand going to Dipper’s back. “Sorry, guess I should’ve warned you that they’re pretty chatty. Especially Trevor- whoa! Greg!” He was suddenly tugged away, dragged by his little brother out of the room and into the hallway.

“Baseball time! Baseball time!”

Mabel took the opportunity to talk to her brother alone. “I’m sorry, bro-bro. I didn’t mean-”

“It’s cool, Mabel.”

“I know you don’t like when I quote dad, and I know friends are hard for-”

“Mabel, it’s okay.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Seriously. So are we gonna go? We’re running late at this point.”

She studied him for a moment before letting her smile return. Like Greg, she latched on and dragged her brother right off. “Onward!”

 

\----

 

They met up at the field for the high school. Trevor and Taylor were tossing a ball back and forth while Sara, Isabelle, and Jason Funderberker lounged on the grass of the outfield with an assortment of sodas hoarded between the three of them. They waved them over as they spied the group of four, their greetings attracting Trevor’s attention. When he caught the ball Taylor threw his way, he turned to face them.

“Hey guys!” he called out as he chucked it their way. “Think fast!”

On reflex, it wasn’t the first time he’d been subjected to this, Wirt stumbled forward and caught the ball before it beamed any of them in the head. “ _Trevor_.”

“What? You’re getting better at hand-eye coordination thanks to me.” He grinned and held out his mitt for Wirt to toss the ball back.

He did so, brow furrowed as his cheeks puffed out. “You’re going to kill someone someday.”

“If I do, it’s because they didn’t think fast enough.”

“Hey Trevor! Think fast!” Isabelle threw an unopened soda can at him and it hit him in the thigh as he turned. “Ooh. Sorry. Guess you just didn’t think fast enough.”

Trevor rolled his eyes and stooped to pick up the can. “No one thinks you’re funny, Isabelle.”

“I do!” Mabel disagreed, giggling. “Hi, guys!”

Dipper rolled his eyes, hooking an arm around Wirt’s waist and brushing a kiss to his temple after a quick bob onto his toes. “Nice catch.”

“I take my job as your shield very seriously,” he replied, cheeks dusted with pink as he tried to shrug it off. “Don’t want my boyfriend bruised by my dumb friend, after all.”

“Hey, I can hear you,” Trevor told him.

Wirt stuck his tongue out at him, then gasped and tried to block Dipper with his body when Trevor came at them with the soda, his fingers threatening the tab. “Hey! Hey, hey, no! Not unless it’s sugar free, don’t you dare!”

“Do it! Spray them with soda!” Greg cheered.

“Greg! Who’s side are you on?”

“The side with the most soda, and right now that’s Trevor.”

Not wanting to get sprayed herself, Mabel quickly side-stepped. “Behave, boys.”

Dipper laughed. “Man, you pop that tab and you'll never see me pitch.”

Trevor backed off with a laugh of his own. “Like I’d waste a good- what is this?” He held up the can to actually look at the label. “Orange soda on Wirt.”

“Good to know. Anyway, hopefully you put some padding in your glove. ‘Cause now I'm not going easy on you, man.” Dipper tugged on his mitt and leaned over to kiss Wirt's cheek. “I've got this. Greg, you gonna call numbers for me or are you still being a brat?” he teased, sticking his tongue out at the traitor.

“I want to call the numbers!” Greg waved his arm excitedly while Wirt rolled his eyes. At least he didn’t deny being a brat. “Where’s the thing?”

Sara held up the radar gun. “Over here, Greg.”

He lit up and raced over to take it. “Thanks, Sara! Here, we can trade.” Greg offered her the lucky frog. “You can have Jason Funderburker.”

“Who? Me?” Jason Funderberker croaked, his attention redirected from offering Taylor a soda as she joined them.

Greg scoffed, hands on his hips. “Not you, Jason Funderberker. Jason Funderburker.”

_Ro-rop._ The frog blinked twice, then stared at the other boy from Sara’s lap. Jason Funderberker blinked back. “Oh. Sorry.”

“Aim for his face, Dipper!” Isabelle called out to him once Greg had the radar gun in hand.

Wirt raised an eyebrow. “Pretty sure pitching doesn’t involve aiming at people’s faces.”

“How do you know? Wirt, I’m like, one hundred and fifteen percent certain that you don’t know the first thing about baseball.”

He opened his mouth to refute that, but immediately closed it as he realized she was right and said as much. She and Sara laughed, the latter of the two getting to her feet and dusting off her jeans. She waved Mabel and Wirt over, herding them in the direction she wanted to go.

“Come on, we’ll have a better view from the dugout,” she told them.

Wirt blinked. “The what?”

“The dugout. You know, the place where the batters sit to wait for their turn at the plate?” She clarified, watching as Wirt only blinked again. “Oh my god. Someone is seriously going to have to educate you on baseball terms if you’re going to have a boyfriend who plays.”

“I can teach him!” Trevor offered, handing Dipper the ball after kicking the unopened orange soda can aside.

“He doesn’t need to know the terminology to know that Dipdop’s awesome,” Mabel pointed out. “But they’d totally help since I’m absolutely going to film bits and pieces of his games.”

“Don’t you dare,” her twin warned.

“You’ll never stop me, bro-bro!”

Shaking his head, Dipper only laughed, rolling the ball along his fingers to get a feel for it. He hadn’t really been expecting to pitch on an actual baseball field, so bounced lightly on the mound as he waited for Trevor to take his place. Numbers swirled and the ball abruptly stopped as a pitch clicked. Curve ball to make him _think_ he was going to get hit in the face seemed fair.

“Word of advice, Trevor, don’t move the glove. You don’t have any extra equipment, so if I do hit you in the face, it’ll hurt. Like, a lot. So don’t move the glove unless I tell you to.”

“When he first joined the high school team, he knocked out a senior who didn’t listen to him,” Mabel revealed, perching on the bench and hefting Greg up to sit in her lap so she could help him hold the gun up.

Trevor shot her a thumbs up, crouching down by home plate. He might not have played catcher, but he could respect the position and knew from being hit by the occasional wild pitch as a batter not to mess around. “I got you, Dipper,” he called back to him.

“Have you seen him in action before?” Sara asked Wirt, nudging his shoulder with hers as they sat on the bench beside Mabel.

“Sort of? I’ve seen him throw some practice pitches.” He shrugged as the rest of the group meandered over to watch.

Mabel grinned. “He's been practicing some out back, too, but he throws differently to a catcher. Trevor did put padding in his glove, didn't he?”

Sara and Wirt both looked to Isabelle who merely shrugged her shoulders with a, “Mm-mm-mm.”

“Probably a no then.” Sara deduced, looking back to their friend with what amounted to amused pity.

“Oh boy,” Wirt sighed.

Dipper twisted his cap around before settling into his stance. The first pitch came without warning, his silent stillness erupting into a graceful wave of motion.

The ball clapped loudly into Trevor's glove and 78 lit up on the gun. “Pretty slow, bro-bro!” It wasn't in the slightest, average for a major leaguer, but she loved goading him.

“Shut up, Mabel! First pitch and it was a curve.” He held up his glove for Trevor to throw the ball back his way. “Let me warm up some, geez.”

Whistling lowly, Trevor tossed it back. “Nice, man!” he praised, grinning from ear to ear at the actual, talented player, slanting a glance Wirt’s way. “Dude, your boyfriend’s awesome.”

Wirt sat up straight, his shoulders back as he preened, his own delighted smile all for the boy on the mound while his stomach fluttered with butterflies. “I know.”

Dipper sought him out as he rolled his fingers over the ball, seeking the next pitch. A change-up clicked, his grin all for Wirt while he shifted into his stance and let the ball fly. 84 flashed.

“Here we go,” Mabel said quietly, smile widening.

The group of teens murmured appreciatively while Wirt squirmed on the bench. He’d watched him pitch before to a person, yeah, but that had been before the depths of his crush had been realized. It had been with careful distance that he’d admired the stance and the way his mind flipped through possible pitches. There hadn’t been any grins aimed his way either, not ones bursting with familiarity. Familiarity after only a month. Had it really only been a month? Yes, he’d met him and Mabel in The Unknown, but that wasn’t knowing them the way he did now. A month ago he watched him pitch as nothing more than an acquaintance making good on his promise. Now he was watching him as his boyfriend, as someone who loved him.

Wirt’s lips quirked up in a smaller, but no less fond, smile. They’d moved quickly, almost too quickly for his taste, but they really, kind of had to. The pressure of a week had been upon them, then the aftermath of what had truly been a horrific experience for Dipper - for all of them, but especially Dipper - had called for something a little above and beyond a typical, teen, summer fling. Wirt didn’t really do flings anyway. It wasn’t within his comfort zone for one, and for two, well, there had been too much to know about Dipper to reduce him to something he could only savor in summer. He wanted him for all seasons.

He was brought back out of his reverie when Sara laughed beside him and he blinked at the way Trevor waved his gloved hand and adjusted the mitt after throwing it back to Dipper. “Oh god. I might not know the first thing about catching either, but he’s seriously going to regret this.”

“What position does he play?” Wirt asked curiously. Well-aware of his friend’s love of the game, once he got started on the subject, he used words that Wirt just couldn’t follow for the life of him.

Sara snorted, grinning at him. “Do you even know what positions there are in baseball?”

“Um. Pitcher.” Wirt pursed his lips, nodding in Dipper’s direction. “Oh! And catcher.”

“Oh my god, you look so pleased with yourself.” She clapped him on the back. “Trev plays third base.”

“Right. Of course. That’s the… that’s the third one, right.”

Mabel giggled. “There are nine positions, sweetie. In order by the scorecard, it’s pitcher, catcher, first, second, third, shortstop, left field, center field, right field.” She tilted her head to the side. “I think I lost you after third.”

“No. Shortstop.” Wirt corrected, the nickname Dipper had bestowed on his younger brother finally making sense. Well, aside from the obvious of Greg being short and the number of times he had to tell him to ‘stop.’

“Are you guys trying to teach my boyfriend baseball?” Dipper demanded, trying to pick a pitch other than the fastball his fingers wanted. He didn’t really want to hurt Trevor.

“Emphasis on the word ‘trying,’” Sara called back to him.

“I didn’t even know there was a scorecard for baseball.”

Taylor laughed. “How did you think they keep track of who wins?”

“Well, I mean… I knew they had a points-system, I just didn’t know there was… like an actual card they kept score on,” he explained.

“I didn’t either,” Jason Funderberker chimed in.

Trevor glanced their way. “Wirt, I swear to god if you’re envisioning something like a Yahtzee scorecard, I’m going to have to break off our friendship. Forever.”

His cheeks warmed as they puffed out. “Uh… no? Of course not. Why would I do that? There’s- there’s no _dice_ in baseball. Right?” He looked to Mabel quickly for confirmation.

“Mm-mm. I’ll show you a scorecard when we get home,” she promised. “Come on, Dipdop! What’re you waiting for?”

He muttered under his breath, fingers settling where they wanted. They had told Trevor to put padding in his glove, so it wasn’t technically his fault if this hurt him. Besides, it wasn’t as though he had to pitch _that_ hard. Yeah.

Dipper lined up the throw, and winced when Greg called out 99. “Whoops.”

“Son of a- banana split!” Trevor dropped the ball and removed his glove, waving his hand as if the rush of air would soothe the sting, glaring at the dugout when Isabelle and Sara burst into a fit of giggles. “Shut up, Isabelle!”

“Dipper, you’re seriously the best!” she praised him, giving him a thumbs up.

“Yeah! Ninety-nine percent is almost an A plus!” Greg beamed at him.

Dipper rubbed the back of his neck. “I was kind of trying to slow that one down some, but thanks. Probably should’ve gone with a splitter instead of a cutter.”

“Different kinds of fastballs,” Mabel translated, reaching over Sara to pat Wirt’s knee.

“Trev, you want to stop?”

“No.” He shook his head, glancing around the field. “I’m gonna need that soda can back though. Wow, have you got an arm.”

Jason Funderberker grabbed one from their stash and took it over to him. Trevor clutched the cool aluminum, blowing out a short exhale of relief before setting it down at his feet. Reaching into the pocket of his cargo pants, he pulled out the padding he’d ignored earlier and fitted it over his hand. He shoved his mitt back on and picked up the ball, chucking it to Dipper.

“To be fair, you’re like, three times better than any of the pitchers on our team,” he told him, then looked to the dugout. “Wirt! Get him to move in with you so we can have him!”

“Working on it,” Wirt replied, delighted by the attention his boyfriend was getting.

“Really?” Greg’s eyes went wide with excitement.

Heart stuttering a bit, Wirt sagged a bit at the hope his brother exuded. “Not… not really, Greg. Not yet. Not really not yet, but someday? Maybe? Uh…”

Mabel saved him, bouncing Greg in her lap. “Baby, we would absolutely move in if we could. But we’ve got to see our parents. And Waddles! Poor Waddles has been all alone with the grunkles, so we have to go home and rescue him.”

“Oh yeah! You can’t leave Waddles! He’s part of Mystery Best Friends, too!” Greg nodded, in complete agreement with her.

Wirt sighed quietly, shooting Mabel a grateful look. His peace of mind didn’t last long though. He stiffened as the bench dipped a little with the added weight on his other side. Why? Why didn’t he just go back to his original seat? Why was he sitting next to him and not Taylor and Isabelle?

“Hey, Wirt.”

“Hi… Jason Funderberker…”

Mabel prided herself on holding back the burst of giggles when she looked from them to her twin and his narrow eyes. His next pitch was almost violent, and she bit her lip at the 102. “Wellity, wellity, wellity.”

“He’s really good, huh?” Jason Funderberker croaked, leaning towards Wirt to engage him in conversation.

Wirt’s gaze flitted between him and Dipper, fidgeting after being under his narrow-eyed scrutiny and hearing the triple-digit number called out. Straightening his shoulders, he attempted a smile, tried to be at ease and not nervous because Dipper didn’t need to be bothered by total package Jason Funderberker, too. “Yeah. Yeah, he is.” He mentally patted himself on the back. Good, now they could move on-

“I mean, I’m with you. I don’t know much about baseball either, but it’s pretty obvious he has talent,” Jason Funderberker continued.

Wirt rubbed the side of his neck. “Yeah, that’s- I felt- I uh… noticed that, too. First time I saw him pitch. ‘Cause he’s… yeah, he’s good.” He turned his head away to check on Dipper. Really, all he wanted to do was enjoy how awesome his boyfriend was in peace, was that so much to ask?

Apparently. “It’s too bad you won’t get to see him in actual games.”

Too bad didn’t even begin to cover it. “Mmhm.”

“I’ll film him,” Mabel promised, reaching over Sara again to give him a pat. “I go to all his games. And you’ll get to see him in his little baseball uniform.”

Wirt blinked, intrigued by the idea of Dipper in a baseball uniform when another pat to his knee had him jumping and nearly toppling off the bench. “That’d be cool. You should get someone to film you while you’re in marching band to show him, too,” Jason Funderberker suggested.

“Y-yeah. Uh-huh.” He subtly tried to slide away from him.

“Funderberker! Stop hitting on Dipper’s boyfriend! At least not while I’m catching for him. I’m not target practice, you know,” Trevor hollered at him.

Heat rose in Wirt’s face as he slapped his palm to it while the total package beside him blinked in confusion, his hand still on Wirt’s knee. “Huh?”

Mabel lost it, head falling back as she laughed. “Oh my _gosh_! Trevor!”

“What? I don’t get it.” Jason Funderberker’s brow wrinkled in confusion.

Sara was laughing right alongside Mabel. “Oh, we know. It’s okay, Funderberker.”

“Oh… Wirt?”

Wirt pressed his lips together, eyes closed tightly. “Mmhm?”

“Is it because I’m touching y-”

“Yes, it’s because you’re touching me.”

Torn between being absolutely mortified and furious because _the dweeb was still touching him_ , Dipper kicked at the dirt on the mound and then huffed, giving up. So he was a jealous idiot. Fine. He could be every inch the jealous idiot if it meant Jason Funderberker took his dweeb hands off his boyfriend.

Even if he had to march over to the dugout and half-drag his boyfriend off the bench to claim his lips in a greedy, possessive kiss. “Funderberker, don’t touch my boyfriend,” he grumbled, dropping his cap to Wirt’s head in stubborn claim before striding back to the mound to retrieve the ball and glove he’d left in the dirt.

“You tell him, Dipper!” Sara cheered while Wirt sat back down shakily, heart pounding and head spinning from the kiss.

“Sorry, Dipper,” Jason Funderberker added, very sincere in his croaky apology.

“That was too adorable. Wirt, how did you get such an adorable boyfriend?” Isabelle grinned at him.

Wirt’s lips quirked up in a small smile, his flush still present on his cheeks as he shrugged a little. “I ask myself that same question every day.”

“Okay, that’s obviously why,” Taylor put in, shaking her head.

Mabel patted her heart, still giggling now and then but relieved to see the next pitch come in at a far more mild 95. “Of course that’s why. They’re both really adorable.” She ruffled Greg’s hair. “Ob-waffle.”

“Ob-waffle,” Greg agreed, holding up the radar gun to check the speeds of the next few pitches. “We should all play baseball while Dipper and Mabel are still here. Like a real game!”

“Trev’s got bats and stuff, and I’ve got a few extra gloves,” Taylor chimed in, smiling at him. “It could be fun. When do you guys head back?”

“Sunday.” Mabel’s smile wanted to be sad, but she wrestled it away. “We could play now. Not like we had anything big planned for today. Dipper and Wirt have been lazing around all morning.”

Wirt’s brow furrowed. “We were reading. Well, I was reading. Dipper was researching.”

Sara chuckled, elbowing him in the side. “Come on, Wirt. You can read whenever you want. We’ll split the teams fairly.”

“But we have an odd number of people,” Greg pointed out.

“Trevor!” Isabelle waved to get his attention. “Go home and get your baseball bats and your sister so we can have an even number of players!”

“What?”

“We’re gonna play baseball!” Greg chirped. “Can I be catcher? I want to be catcher!”

“Only if you’re not on Dipper’s team.” Taylor gave him a pat on the head.

Greg puffed out his cheeks, the crease in his brow matching Wirt’s. “Aw, beans. That’s a tough call.” He looked from hand to hand, weighing his options as he held onto the radar gun. “Catcher or Dipper. Catcher or Dipper… who’d be the pitcher on the other team?”

Sara shrugged and raised her hand. “I’m game if no one else is. Or Wirt, maybe you should pitch.”

He snorted. “Yeah, no. That’s a terrible idea.”

“I’ll pitch,” Mabel volunteered. “As long as Dipper actually agrees to let us hit the ball sometimes.”

“Maybe.” Amused, all for a game, Dipper left his glove on the mound and tossed the ball hand to hand. “If I get Wirt on my team.”

“You say that now.” Wirt couldn’t help his smile as he warned his boyfriend. “Just remember all the things you like about me while we’re playing, okay?”

“Don’t worry, Wirt. You’re about to get a crash course in baseball, and you’ve got the best defense on your team. We’ll be fine.”

Isabelle went with Trevor to collect the rest of the gear they’d need to play while the remaining teens plus Greg divided themselves into two teams of five. Dipper was named captain of his team and Mabel the captain of the other. Greg happily joined Mabel’s team alongside Jason Funderburker and Jason Funderberker. Taylor also joined their team, naming Isabelle their fifth player. Dipper, Sara, and Wirt comprised the other team, to be joined by Trevor - who was the only one the entire group decided should catch for Dipper - and his little sister, Kaylee.

“So we’ll have three fielders covering right, center, and left, and then pitcher and catcher,” Sara explained. “So Dip’s our pitcher, Trev’s catcher, center should go to his sister and then you and I can cover part of center as well as left and right. You have a preference, Wirt?”

“Uh… left, I guess.” He shrugged, siding with his dominant hand.

“Okay, so that means you’re basically third base and left field.”

“Right.”

“No, I’m right. You’re left,” she teased, chuckling when he swatted her with a glove.

“We should have team names!” Greg declared to all of them. “That’s the best part of all sports. Picking the team name!”

Mabel ruffled his hair. “How about Magical Tigers?”

“Yeah!”

Sara grinned at him, then looked to her two teammates. “What should we be?”

Wirt tugged on the bill of Dipper’s hat as he rocked back on his heels with a small smile of his own. “The Happy Honeybees.”

“Oh my god, Wirt. We’re the Hornets. It’s a hornet costume-”

“The Happy Honeybees,” he repeated, then laughed when she shoved his shoulder.

Sara rolled her eyes. “We’re not going to be the Happy Honeybees. I’d name our team the Nerd Gnomes first.”

That got Wirt to stop laughing, his cheeks puffing out as she turned the tables on him. “I wasn’t a gnome.”

“I’m sorry, man, but I’ve seen gnomes. You so were.”

“I wasn’t a gnome,” he repeated, crossing his arms. “It was _my_ Halloween costume, I think I’m the best judge of just what I was exactly.”

Greg tilted his head, talk of gnomes having drawn him into their conversation. “But Wirt, you said you didn’t even know what you were!”

“Well, I know it wasn’t a gnome.”

“How about you guys be the feisty kittens?” Mabel teased.

“No way,” Dipper protested.

“Ferocious kittens?” Greg suggested with a smile.

Sara grinned back at him, nudging Dipper with her elbow. “Fabulous kittens,”

“Fearsome kittens.” Jason Funderberker joined in.

“I’ll quit this team,” Dipper threatened.

“Two of those suggestions weren’t even from our team.” Wirt wrapped his arms around him from behind, resting his chin on top of Dipper’s head. “You can’t leave me alone with them, Dipper. What do you want to call our team?”

“Uh.” For a moment, Dipper didn’t quite know what to say. His hands flailed a bit before resting on Wirt’s arms, color seeping into his cheeks as he leaned into him. He couldn’t even tug his hat down to hide the blush since it was still on his boyfriend’s head. His tall boyfriend. It wasn’t as though Dipper wasn’t always aware that there was a height difference, but it had never hit him quite like this and right in front of everyone - _seriously_? “Y’know. Just. Whatever you want to go with is cool. I don’t care.” Because his brain had simply short circuited.

Wirt tried to look down at him, ending up pressing his lips to his hair instead. “You don’t care?”

“I got it.” Sara nodded to herself. “We should be axolotls.”

“Okay, that I can totally get behind. That’s a billion times better than anything kitten related.”

Sara shrugged. “Alright then, but seriously, man, what’s with all the kitten-hate?”

“Because when Dipper-”

Mabel broke off on a squeal, her twin putting her in an immediate headlock and clapping a hand over her mouth. “No reason. Nope.” She licked his hand, which was gross but he held fast. She’d made him break away from Wirt’s hold and that deserved as much punishment as the embarrassing fact she’d been about to share.

“Oh my gosh, there’s totally a reason,” Jason Funderberker snickered and Wirt glowered at him while he wasn’t looking.

“No, you know, if Dipper says there’s no reason, then there’s no reason,” he defended his boyfriend.

Sara and Taylor both shot him disbelieving looks. “There’s no way you actually believe that. You’re just trying to score brownie points with your boyfriend,” the former teased.

Wirt crossed his arms and lifted his chin. “I… am completely okay with that assumption.”

“And I’m totally okay with giving him all the points.” Dipper released his sister, only to immediately regret it as she socked him in the shoulder.

“Adorable.”

“Shut _up_.”

“Yes, yes, I know I’m adorable,” Trevor called out as he and Isabelle returned to the field bearing bats and gloves and their extra player. “Probably the most adorable person here.”

Jason Funderberker went to help them with the bats. “Only in your dreams, maybe.”

“No way. Wirt, c’mon man, back me up.”

Wirt fiddled with the pine tree cap still on his head, smile sheepish. “Sorry, Trevor. Afraid I can’t this time. Not when there’s obviously someone else here who’s clearly the most adorable.”

“Oh, we all know who you think is the most adorable, Wirt. You’ve made it completely obvious.” Taylor gave him a pat on the head as she still towered over him. “Funderberker.”

“Exactly- wait _what_! No!” Flustered, Wirt scowled at her as his cheeks puffed up.

“Aw, Wirt, you don’t think I’m the most adorable?” Jason Funderberker played along.

“Oh my gosh.” Wirt buried his face in his hands. “No, Jason Funderberker. For obvious reasons.”

“Trevor, it is now my life goal to make sure your hand hurts for the entire month. Padding or no padding.”

“What did I do?” Trevor pressed his hand over his heart as he gaped at Dipper, appearing wounded. “How was I supposed to know that ‘adorable’ wasn’t in reference to me? Besides, Wirt set himself up for that.”

“I did not!”

“Trevor, I'm pretty sure no one's ever made the mistake of calling you adorable," Mabel teased

“Well, there’s a first time for everything isn’t there?” He shrugged, then laughed as Wirt shuffled over to Dipper and slumped against him.

He sighed heavily, longing for the peace of his bedroom that they’d had not an hour earlier. “Still want to quit the team?”

“Dude, yes. Let’s abandon them.”

“Forfeit means we win,” Mabel pointed out.

“It’s not forfeit.”

“Mmhm. You’re team captain, Dipdop. If you quit, it’s a forfeit and my team wins. Alpha twin!”

Dipper glared at her.

Wirt tapped the top of Dipper’s head with the bill of his own cap. “I’ll kiss you a lot if you forfeit,” he bargained.

“Hey, no bribery, Wirt, it’s against the rules,” Sara chuckled.

He tapped him twice more. “Lots and lots of kissing.”

“C’mon, man, Trevor and Isabelle just brought us all this gear. You seriously can’t just ditch.”

“Yeah, but lots of kissing is a really good deal.”

Wirt tipped back the cap so he could press his lips to his neck. “So much kissing,” he promised.

Isabelle swatted Wirt's shoulder with a glove. “You're playing. I didn't put up with a ten minute walk with his highness for nothing.”

“You wanted to come! You volunteered!” Trevor reminded her, handing Mabel and Greg their gloves.

Mabel tucked hers under her arm, giggling as she fetched a coin from her pocket. “You two are playing. It’s settled. Heads or tails, bro-bro?”

He brushed a kiss to Wirt’s temple just under the hat’s lining. “Heads.”

“Tails!” Greg called out. “I want tails!”

Wirt snorted, then lifted his head to raise his eyebrow at his brother. “You _are_ tails, Greg.”

“I know. I’m just making sure everyone knows I’m happy with this decision.”

Dipper’s laugh was cut off when Mabel called “Tails!” And then it was her turn to laugh, sticking her tongue out at him. “We’ll take the field first. You guys can bat.”

“Crap.”

“No worries, Dip.” Trevor clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’re looking at the guy who’s got the highest batting average on the team.”

“He’s right,” Isabelle chimed in with a sigh. “Unfortunately.”

Leaving his hand on Dipper’s shoulder, Trevor raised one fist to the air. “I’ll carry us through to victory.”

“Oh, thank god. So between your offense and my defense, we’ve got this in the bag.”

“Don’t get cocky, bro-bro.” Mabel wagged her finger at both of them, grinning. “I know you can’t hit a ball to save your life, and Wirt’s probably never even held a baseball bat before. So there’s two automatic outs. You just have to hope that the rest of your team is good.”

Wirt tugged on Dipper’s hat, cheeks puffing out a little. “I’ve held a bat. I played Little League. For a year.”

Trevor shot him a sympathetic smile. “Dude, you didn’t hit the ball once. Ever. You were the bench warmer. But it’s all good, you made up for it on the field. Sort of. Sometimes.” There was a beat of silence. “To be fair, you were six and scared of everything that moved, so…”

“Thanks, Trevor.”

“Wirt, I didn’t know you played Little League.” Sara bumped their shoulders together, eyes narrowing. “You’re just full of secrets, aren’t you?”

“So many secrets.” He confirmed, nodding as seriously as he could manage. “Six was a dark, dark time for me.” While it was intended to be a joke, his voice low and teasing, he felt his heart twist a bit at the realization that that wasn’t entirely untrue. Instead he bumped Sara’s shoulder back and removed the baseball cap to tuck back on Dipper’s head. “You wouldn’t believe some of the things I did for Teddy Grahams.”

“I can. You’re a sugar fiend, man. I can only imagine the horror you were as an uninhibited child,” Trevor jabbed as he swung a bat over his shoulder. “But enough reminiscing, let’s play some ball.”

“Alright, alright.” Dipper twisted his cap around, fingers stilling on the bill as he realized he’d just wandered around without it. And without thinking about it. Around _people_. He met Wirt’s gaze, surprise melting into a grin. “Let’s do this.”

It was a fairly evenly matched game, despite Dipper’s pitching prowess and Trevor’s ability to get on base at every at-bat as Taylor utilized her own skills from years of playing softball and Mabel and Greg’s enthusiasm riled up the Magical Tigers into taking the lead twice.

Wirt’s crash course in baseball did very little to help him assist his team, but during his third time at the plate, his flinch coincided with his swing enough for him to make contact - and maybe Mabel wanted to see if he could hit the ball - and it happened to fall and bounce somewhere near Jason Funderberker's feet, the total package unable to catch it. Wirt had stared at the ball dumbly for a second before Greg was tugging on his arm - “You're supposed to run to first base, Wirt!” - and encouraging him to run despite not being on the same team. He hadn't made it home, and it was the only time he got on base, but he was pleased with himself just the same. And the kiss he’d received from his boyfriend as he met him on the mound while returning to the field.

Greg on the other hand got several good hits off Dipper, the pitcher purposefully giving him the best angles and speeds. Both teams cheered on the two younger kids, Trevor giving Greg a “super high five!” when he got to home plate and scored a run for the Magical Tigers. Kaylee even got a few hits in, though the fellow seven-year-old fouled off Mabel more often than not.

As the shadows grew beneath them and the heat got to the teens and children and lucky frog alike, the Axolotls took the game at the top of the ninth inning by two runs, Trevor hitting Sara and himself home. Hot and tired, but ultimately in good moods all around, they gathered the bats and gloves and searched for lost balls in the overgrown outfield, having just as much fun tossing the ones they found back and forth between each other. Isabelle, Taylor, and Mabel flopped down in the grass, the three girls relishing in the occasional breeze that blew by, claiming that winners deserved to do all the work.

“Winners who have a pool should also invite everyone over to cool off and feed them pizza,” Isabelle piped up, arms pillowed under her head as she closed her eyes against the clouds and blue sky.

Trevor laughed, trying to juggle three of the baseballs and ultimately failing. “You know you guys are always welcome to come over and swim. I don’t need to invite you. And if somebody else pays for the pizza, I will gladly order it.”

“I’ll pay for it,” Jason Funderberker offered croakily.

Taylor snorted, reaching her hand out to him. “Funderberker, the whole point is to get the winners to do things for us.”

“Oh, right.”

Sara held both her hands up. “I’ll chip in, but I’m not paying for everyone’s pizza,” she told them, glancing Wirt’s way, her gaze roving over his face and the way he held his shoulders as he toyed with the mitt he was still holding onto, rolling it in his hands as he rubbed over the seam between the thumb and index finger relentlessly. Her eyes narrowed when he said nothing and his expression was surprisingly blank considering it was Wirt, then she shifted her gaze to Dipper.

He was already looping an arm around Wirt’s waist, lifting up to press a kiss just beneath his ear. “We don’t have to swim, man. It’s okay,” he murmured. “We can be lazy winners and eat pizza on the sidelines.”

Wirt hummed, eyes drifting to the side so he was in his line of sight. “It’s fine. You can swim. It’s not a big deal.” He shrugged with one shoulder. “Don’t want to spoil your fun.”

“You won’t. I _like_ being with you.” And they only had a week left. “So it’s fine. Unless you’re thinking you just want to go home?”

He did. And he didn’t. His internal conflict warred in his gaze as he bit down on his lip. “Mm-mm-mm. Don’t want to spoil their fun either,” he murmured, nodding towards the rest of the group. “And today’s been fun. I had fun, you looked like you had fun, so I don’t really _mind_ hanging out longer, but…” Wirt puffed up his cheeks and blew out slowly. “No, it’s fine. We’ll go for a little bit. Unless you want to go home.”

“Nah, not really. I mean, your friends are...” Dipper ducked his head. “I don’t know. They’re great. You’re lucky. So, um, we can go for a little bit, and when you’re ready to go just let me know. Okay?”

Lucky? Wirt blinked, his grip on the glove lessening as he let go with one hand to brush a stray curl back under his cap and behind his ear. Sure, he was still surprised and flabbergasted to say the least that he actually had this group of people he could call friends - who called him their friend in return - and he thought that he himself was lucky, but why would Dipper? It didn’t really make much sense.

Unless Dipper knew what it was like to be the kid without friends. The awkward interaction between the twins before they left flitted back into his mind and his hand slid down to the back of his neck to knead gently. They’d stay the whole time. He could handle it.

“Okay.” Wirt smiled at him and bumped their hips together. “And you know… Trevor doesn’t just have a pool. He’s got a hottub, too.”

He glanced up, whatever melancholy that tried to shake him banished in favor of a bright grin. “Are you offering to hang out with me in a hottub, boyfriend o’ mine?”

Wirt puffed out his cheeks innocently. “I’m just saying that I don’t particularly have a problem with hottubs. And that there would be one there. That we could sit in. Together. Yes, I’m offering to hang out with you in a hottub.”

“Nice.” He bobbed up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I got pizza, guys,” was said to the entire group. “As captain of the winning team and all.”

A resounding cheer erupted from the group and Dipper was met with a fist bump from Trevor, a clap on the back from Taylor, and squeeze to the shoulder from Sara, along with a grateful look cast his way as Wirt eased up enough to smile and laugh along with their antics as they packed up to leave the field. They’d accepted him and Mabel from the moment they met them at the mall, but it was definitely something to see the way they’d welcomed them with open arms, Wirt noted as he made sure the two younger kids didn’t fall behind. Hanging out with friends, an impromptu baseball game, and relaxing - sort of - in the pool with pizza as the late afternoon turned to evening, it was all normal summer stuff and Wirt was happy to give that to Dipper. He deserved it, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wirt's friends are too much fun to write, so we had to include them at least one last time in this fic. Even total package Jason Funderberker. 
> 
> Plus, who doesn't love adorable nerd boyfriends doing summer things and baseball? All the baseball, all the time.


	17. Chapter 17

“This is unacceptable.”

Arms crossed and a serious expression on his face, Greg stared at what he could see of the half-closed door of his brother’s bedroom from the spot where the living room met the hallway. Beside him, Jason Funderburker croaked his agreement - or attempted to reason with him, but Greg liked to think their lucky frog was on his side on this one at least.

“What’s unacceptable, honey?” his mom asked from the dining room table, sounding much too amused while she worked on some sewing, Mabel knitting beside her, a plate of cookies and glasses of lemonade between them on the table along with a giant tub of crayons from where Greg had been engaged in his own arts and crafts.

“We’ve only got six days left before Dipper and Mabel have to go home, and I still don’t know what the surprise is!” he replied, gesturing to Wirt’s bedroom with a huff. “They’re just spending the whole day being waffles.”

“Come on now, Greg. They played with you and Mabel all day yesterday.” Amy attempted to reason.

“Not all day,” Greg defended. “And that didn’t count. That was baseball and swimming.”

“What about your giant frog hunt?”

“That also didn’t count. Dipper said he had a surprise and now Wirt’s holding it hostage from us. Typical Wirt.” Shaking his head in disapproval, Greg wandered back into the dining room to sit between his mom and Mabel.

Amy nodded with sympathy. “Oh, I know. That brother of yours, always holding things hostage. I should really talk to him about that. It’s becoming quite the problem.”

“You really should,” he agreed.

Mabel grinned, pausing in her knitting to grab a cookie. “We’ll have to ambush them, corporal. Take it by force if need be.”

“Yeah!” Greg perked up, punching his palm with his fist. “Whatever means necessary! We’ve been patient! We’ve been good! We deserve our surprise!” His determination faltered for a moment. “What should we do, Mabel? How should we get them to unhand the surprise?”

“Well, we’re going to have to gather our clues and our know-how of those waffles and come up with a plan. First, we’ll have to get them out of that room. That could be really easy or really difficult, depending on how hungry they are. We have cookies for Wirt, and I can go cut up an apple for Dipper. Hm. What do we know about this surprise, detective?”

“That it has to do with the cemetery.” Greg crossed his arms and nodded seriously. “And that Dipper probably told Wirt what it was while they were kissing.”

“They do kiss a lot, so that seems fair. Hm.” She tapped a knitting needle to her chin in thought. “I think we get them out of Wirt’s room and separate them. They like to spoil you, so maybe if you take Dipper an apple slice and mention something about the cemetery, he’ll cave.”

“I think that plan sounds promising.” Amy glanced up from her sewing, sharing a smile with both Mabel and Greg. “Need help cutting up the apple, Greg?”

“Yeah! Let’s go, Mom! I want to make him cave!” He and Jason Funderburker hopped back down from his seat. “I mean, I’m all for ob-waffle all the time, but I’m for surprises more.”

“That seems reasonable,” she replied, setting her things down to follow her son into the kitchen. “Sounds like it might be tricky getting Wirt away from Dipper though. He’s been awfully clingy lately.”

“That’s okay. I know where the crowbar is.” Greg grinned, pleased with himself, then mimed a scraping and tugging motion. “Mabel can pry him off like dried molasses off a pan!”

The girl giggled, a knitted hat for Jason Funderburker to match the one she’d already made for Greg left at the table as she rose. “I’ll do my best, and maybe we won’t need that crowbar. Cookies and apples should work.”

“But I like the crowbar,” Greg laughed, reaching for her hand.

“Gregory, you are not going to use a crowbar on your brother,” Amy attempted to chide, though her chuckle hard to hide as she grabbed three apples from the fridge to wash. “Or encourage other people to either. Besides, I don’t think Dipper would be up to sharing the surprise with you if did. You have to look at the big picture.”

“Fair enough,” he hummed, swinging his and Mabel’s hands back and forth as he grinned up at her. “I hope it’s a good surprise.”

“I think knowing our brothers, it’s bound to be! At the very least, it’ll be interesting.”

Greg nodded and laughed as he used Mabel’s arm as an anchor while he spun, waiting for his mom to finish cutting up one of the apples. She arranged the slices on a small plate and handed it to him, ruffling his hair in the process. “Go ahead and tell them there’s more where this came from out here.”

“And peanut butter?”

“And peanut butter,” she confirmed.

“Yeah! C’mon, Mabel! Let’s get ‘em!” Greg held the plate above his head and darted out of the kitchen.

Laughing, Mabel thanked Amy and quickly sped after him. Wirt’s door was swung open without warning and it was no surprise at all to find both boys snuggled close in Wirt’s bed with their noses pressed into books. Well, Wirt’s was. Dipper’s was closed, resting on his chest while he listened to his boyfriend read aloud.

Mabel huffed, hands on her hips. “How did we end up related to such lazy waffles, Greg?”

“It’s a conspiracy!” Greg declared.

With a heavy sigh, Wirt lifted his gaze from his book mid-verse and raised an eyebrow. “I’d hardly call it that, Greg. And reading isn’t laziness. It’s exercise for the mind.”

“That’s just what lazy people say to make it seem like they’re not as lazy as they actually are.”

“That's what you think.” Dipper sat up a little, gaze going to the plate Greg held. “Are those apple slices?”

Greg’s tongue poked out of his mouth as he waved the plate back and forth in an attempt to tempt Dipper. “Yep. And there’s more where they came from in the kitchen, but they come at a cost.”

Mabel bit back her giggle, but not her smile. “Yup!”

“That sounds ominous.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure if apples are worth finding out.” Wirt marked his spot in his book nonetheless and closed it, battening down the hatches and bracing himself for whatever his brother had planned.

Greg held the plate a little closer to the couple. “I think Dipper thinks they are.”

“Well, I mean... Knowing the price doesn’t mean paying it.” Even though he was suddenly very hungry.

Wirt shifted his stare to his boyfriend. “Seriously? He’s winning you over with apples? I can get you an apple.”

With a giggle, Greg inched his way over to the bedside. “For this apple and more, all you have to do is tell me and Mabel and Jason Funderburker what the surprise is.”

“The... Oh!” Dipper grinned. “We haven’t done that yet, have we?”

“No, we haven’t! And it’s very important, Dipdop. Greg and I need to know!”

He looked at Wirt, grin turning a little sheepish. “We can go today. I don’t mind.”

Wirt’s mildly disgruntled expression shifted into something a little more concerned, though anticipation prickled along the edges of it as he recalled what exactly this surprise was. “Are you feeling up to it? I mean, did you get a good night’s sleep and everything?”

Mabel’s eyes narrowed, heart beating a little faster. The surprise involved going to the cemetery where the veil was thin. He couldn’t be doing what she thought he was, though, right? He’d exhaust himself. “What exactly is this surprise, Dipper?”

He shrugged. “You’ll see today because I’m feeling fine.” Dipper leaned over to kiss his boyfriend’s cheek. “ _If_ Greg hands over the plate.”

“Yeah!” Greg eagerly thrusted the plate into Dipper’s lap, climbing onto his brother’s bed to join them right after, motioning for Mabel to join them as they all piled on. “When can we see the surprise? As soon as you finish your apples?”

“We should probably have actual lunch.” Dipper eagerly bit into one of the slices, delighted to have it. “But we can go whenever.”

Taking a slice for himself from the plate, Wirt nodded as he popped it into his mouth and shot Greg a warning glance as the seven-year-old bounced eagerly, ready to declare they leave immediately. “Lunch first, definitely. The surprise can wait a little bit longer, Greg.”

“Aw beans, but we’ve already waited so long,” he huffed, crossing his arms. “And what if you decide after lunch to make us wait even more?”

“We won’t,” Dipper promised. “Wirt wants this surprise as much as you do.” He frowned at the way his twin was watching him. “What?”

She swayed side to side, humming tunelessly. “Nothing.”

Wirt blinked, slowing his chewing as he observed Mabel, then Dipper, then turned his attention back to her once more. “Are you sure?” he broached hesitantly.

“Of course I’m sure!” she chirped, but her gaze stayed on her brother. “But I think I know what the surprise is. Are you sure-?”

“It’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing,” Dipper insisted, pointing at her with an apple slice. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Lips twisting into a pensive sort of look, Wirt nudged Dipper’s shoulder with his. “Is this… is this actually something you should be doing? Because if it’s not, we don’t have to. I’m serious.”

“Now look what you did,” Dipper complained.

Mabel shrugged. She did want to see Beatrice. She’d spent the past two years torn between being angry with her for tricking Wirt and Greg and trying not to be angry because she had no way of knowing what had happened. No way of knowing if the bluebird had really known that Adelaide was dangerous. So she wanted to see her to absolve some of that and knew Dipper would want the same.

Not to mention just how much Greg and Wirt would love it. There were clearly no hard feelings between the three of them. Her concern was for her twin’s physical well-being. “Just... are you really sure?”

“Yeah. I’m good. I did the research, and it’ll be fine.”

Mabel pursed her lips, looking between the two half-brothers, and nodded. “Okay! We should definitely have lunch first.” She ruffled Greg’s hair, smile returning brightly. “Dipper’s going to need the energy, corporal!”

“Okay! If you say so, General Mabel!” Greg agreed easily to her, Wirt unable to even be annoyed by it now that his worries had been stirred.

Was this really something they should be doing? Messing with the paranormal, the natural order of things? There could be consequences, and he wasn’t about to put his boyfriend in the line of fire for something so incredibly selfish. He’d said his goodbye. He knew that would be it for them, that he’d never see her again, and he’d made peace with that. Sure, he’d love to see her again, give anything to get a chance to talk with her again, hear her mess with him, but not at the cost of someone else’s well-being. Especially Dipper’s.

Wirt waited for Greg to hop down from the bed, tugging on Mabel’s hand as he declared that they should have grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch, and leaving the plate with them, before untangling himself from Dipper. He slid around him to the edge of the bed to sit for a moment, hoping whatever was swirling inside him would settle soon enough. Toying with his sweater sleeves, he flicked his gaze to the remaining apple slices.

“The research really did say it’ll be fine?” he asked. “It won’t be like… I don’t know. Like a blood oath or dangerous ritual or anything?”

Dipper set the plate onto the bedside table, and sat beside him, legs dangling off the edge of the bed. A hand reached out, taking one of Wirt’s to stop them from fiddling. “There’s no blood oath, there’s no dangerous ritual. This would be easier if I was, like, a medium or a witch or something, but it’s still totally doable. It’s just gonna take physical energy, and that’s not a big deal. At most, I’ll need a nap after. I’ll be okay, man.”

Wirt watched their joined hands, his thumb rubbing over the back of Dipper’s. Energy made sense, a nap he could handle. Dipper had been sleeping better as far as he knew, and his boyfriend made it sound like it wouldn’t be too taxing. He gave his hand a squeeze and nodded.

“Okay. If you say so,” he replied, lifting his gaze to find his. “Just promise that if it gets to be too much, you’ll stop. Don’t push yourself too hard and stop if you need to stop. Alright?”

“I’ll be fine, man.” He lifted his hand, pressing a kiss to the palm. “I know my limits.”

 

\----

 

The twins were a few paces back, Wirt and Greg leading the way to the Eternal Garden. “So am I right?” Mabel asked quietly. “This has to do with Beatrice, right?”

“Yeah. I’ve got enough salt to make a ring and there’s a good incantation in the first journal. Beyond that, it’s just gonna need Beatrice wanting to come through to work.”

“So are we just going to be able to see her?” When his answer was a noncommittal noise, she poked his shoulder. “Dipper.”

“See her and talk to her. If I was stronger or there was more than just me doing this, they could interact with her. Maybe I’ll figure that out, but... not today.”

“If you need to stop, do it, okay? Don’t put yourself in a coma.”

He shushed her, glancing ahead at the half-brothers to make sure neither had heard that. But Greg was chattering away, swinging Wirt’s arm and holding Jason Funderburker atop the tea kettle he’d decided to wear. “I’m not going to go into a coma. I know what I’m doing.”

“Last time you tried communicating with something that wasn’t a ghost-”

“That was last time. I know better now. Besides, we don’t have enough time for me to go into one.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, sorrow flickering over his determined features. “We only have a few more days, Mabel.”

“I know.” She sighed, leaning against him. His arm wrapped around her immediately in an offer of comfort. “I don’t want to go.”

“Me either.”

They looked at each other a moment, then nodded before breaking apart to catch up to the brothers. Mabel hooked an arm around Wirt’s and Dipper swept Greg up to his shoulders before grabbing Wirt’s hand. Their grins were identical, trepidations replaced with excitement. They’d done crazier things than this, after all.

“Admiral Dipper, did you tell General Mabel what the surprise is before me?” the youngest accused him once his delighted giggles faded, poking Dipper’s head through his hat.

“Sorry, corporal. She's just a really good guesser.”

“The best out there!” she agreed, bumping her hip to Wirt's.

Greg gasped, then poked Dipper again. “Now you _have_ to tell me what it is! Me and Jason Funderburker can’t be the only ones who don’t know!”

“Why don’t you guess like Mabel did?” Wirt suggested.

“I don’t have the patience for that, Wirt,” he pointed out, as if it were a piece of sage wisdom. “All I know is that it might have something to do with outside and something to do with the cemetery since we’re heading right for it.” Greg looked at the sign as it came into view. “That’s all I’ve got right now.”

“Well, keep going. What do you know about the cemetery?” Wirt squeezed his boyfriend’s hand and adjusted his arm linked with Mabel’s to keep her close and connected.

Humming thoughtfully, Greg tapped out a beat on the bill of Dipper’s cap. “It’s where we went over the wall and went into The Unknown. Are we going back there?”

Wirt twisted his lips. “No, Greg, I told you we wouldn’t. What else?”

“Um…” Greg shrugged. “There’s a lot of graves?”

“You're on the right track,” Dipper encouraged, pushing his hat back since the tapping had dropped the bill over his eyes. “So now think about the ones you're familiar with.”

“Well, there’s Uncle Endicott’s grave. Oh, we’re not gonna have tea with Uncle Endicott, are we?” Greg scrunched up his nose. “I don’t like tea.”

Dipper gave Wirt’s hand a squeeze, chuckling. “Since I don’t like tea either, probably not.”

“Yeah, but Wirt likes tea.”

Wirt shook his head. “It’s not a tea party, Greg, I promise. And that’s a rock fact.”

“Okay, good. Does it have something to do with Beatrice then?” Greg tried to look down at Dipper again as they passed the threshold of the cemetery.

“Bingo.” Since Dipper couldn't look up at him, he bounced him. “Now think about your resources. What, or who, do you have available? What can happen involving Beatrice that's worth a surprise?”

“Well, seeing her again,” Greg replied matter-of-factly, as if it were obvious, “but Wirt said that’s impossible.”

Cheeks tinting pink, Wirt glanced away as he fought not to shuffle his feet. It didn’t really work to scuff the toes of his shoes on the ground while he was walking, especially when he was attached to two other people. He shrugged a little, squeezing Dipper’s hand back and tucking Mabel closer.

“Maybe it’s not as impossible as I thought, Greg.”

“Nothing's impossible for the Mystery Best Friends!” Giggling, Mabel bumped her hip to Wirt's.

Greg gasped and wriggled about in earnest to get Dipper to put him and Jason Funderburker down. “Are we really gonna see and talk to Beatrice? Is that the surprise?”

Laughing, Dipper swung him around to give both boy and frog a hug before setting Greg on his feet. “I think you might be as good a guesser as Mabel.”

“Obviously,” his twin agreed. “I’m teaching him well.”

“Whoa! Wirt! We’re gonna see Beatrice!” Greg grinned up at his older brother.

He couldn’t help returning the bright smile with one of his own. “Yeah, we are.”

“I’ll finally get to say goodbye to her for real! And Jason Funderburker, too!” Greg lifted Jason Funderburker above his head and set him on the tea kettle before racing off in the direction of her grave. “Yeah!”

Laughing, Mabel pulled Wirt into a quick twirl before running after the boy. Dipper took his boyfriend's hand again, his own laughter spilling out. “Come on, man. I know you want to see her as much as he does.”

Wirt laced their fingers together on a soft chuckle of his own. “I really do, yeah. Let’s go.”

The bluebird engraved headstone sent a shiver through him, one born of anticipation as the two of them joined their siblings. It always offered some modicum of comfort, even when he missed his snarky friend so much that it ached, but now it also held the possibility of actually speaking with her again. He could make sure she was doing alright, that her family was okay. He could properly thank her for looking out for him and his brother, even when she didn’t have to. It wasn’t her burden to bear.

But it was what friends did. They were friends, even after everything with Adelaide, and he missed her. Wirt squeezed Dipper’s hand again. He’d missed her dearly, and in a few days he’d be back to missing Dipper and Mabel dearly and he wasn’t ready to dwell on that just yet. Not when he had them with him still.

It helped that Greg was nearly bursting with excitement, it was almost tangible and certainly infectious. “What do we have to do to talk to her, Admiral Dipper?” he asked, pressing one hand to the gravestone.

“I have to do a couple things. You can just hang out.” He swung his bag off his shoulder and dug out a container of salt and his journal. He passed that to Wirt and popped open the salt. “So there’s a reason why witches and stuff are big on circles. They don’t always have to be salt - just something granular and clear and whatever - but salt’s cheap and easy to come by. The point of them is to keep out anything... not cool. Basically.”

Demons and other negative spirits, really, but the simple explanation seemed best as he ushered the three of them closer to Beatrice’s grave and made a wide circle with them inside. “With this, nothing’ll come through but her. I’ve got some candles, too, but we’ll only need those if Beatrice doesn’t want to come through.”

“I think she will.” Mabel bounced on her toes before dropping down to sit on the grass. “The air’s already thrumming around here.”

Wirt hummed his agreement, glancing around as he fiddled with Dipper’s journal and felt a similar something in the air similar to what hovered around Salem, pressing the leatherbound book close to his chest as he watched him work.

“Why wouldn’t she want to come? I bet she’s missed us just as as much as we’ve missed her!” Greg climbed into Mabel’s lap, making himself and Jason Funderburker comfortable as they leaned against her.

“Probably,” Dipper agreed, his twin giving Greg a loving squeeze. His mind was swirling with questions. How long had it been for Beatrice? It had been the better part of a year for Greg and Wirt, just about three for the twins at this point. With the odd way time worked in The Unknown, had it been shorter for Beatrice? Longer? Was she always aware of them when they came to visit her grave or had his not-dream been a fluke of sorts?

It was going to be hard to bite those back to let the half-brothers and his sister interact with her instead, but he’d do it. The less he chatted directly with her, the less his concentration would be broken, and the longer this could go on. Every second was going to count.

He closed the salt and returned it to his bag, pleased by the size of the circle he’d created. He wished he could strengthen it somehow, but he didn’t have the magical capability it would require and it was safe enough for what they were doing.

Grinning, he looked to his boyfriend, reached out for the journal. “I’m gonna sit in the middle of the circle. It’s where the strongest energy is.”

“Okay.” Wirt handed over the journal, wringing his hands together when it was out of his grasp. “Should we give you space? Like, make sure that we sit on the edge of it or something?”

“Nah.” Dipper crossed his legs, dropping down to the center of the circle and thumbing through the old pages. “Just don’t sit behind me, so I’m not worrying about any of you accidentally breaking the circle.”

Wirt nodded and eyed the circle warily even though there was plenty of space between him and it. He settled down beside Mabel just to be safe, mimicking Dipper’s posture while Greg poked his cheek. Jason Funderburker croaked at him, so the older brother took the frog into his lap to keep an eye on him in case he attempted to hop away and disturb the circle himself.

“What’s the first thing you want to say to her?” Greg was asking him excitedly, then looked up at Mabel as well to make sure she knew she was included in this discussion. “I don’t even know! I think I want to ask if she likes being a person instead of a bird now and if she still has to eat maggots and dirt. Oh, but I also want to ask her about Adelaide and why she didn’t come with us when she turned to dust and we escaped! Or maybe-!”

“You can ask her whatever you want as long as she’s willing to answer, Greg,” Wirt told him, lips quirking up at his enthusiasm. “And I’m sure she’s going to have questions for you, too.”

“Oh yeah! I’ve got lots to tell her!”

Mabel giggled. “I think I’ll start with ‘hi’ and see where it goes from there. What about you, Dipdop?”

“No idea.” He shrugged, scanning the words he’d already memorized a final time before closing his eyes. “You guys ready?”

Wirt swallowed, glancing from Mabel and Greg to take in his boyfriend. “Yeah. I think so.”

“I’m ready! And so’s Jason Funderburker!”

“Okay. Close your eyes and think about Beatrice, just her name. Wirt, you know what she looks like. So get that picture in your head. We’re calling her, inviting her over.” He squinted his eyes open just to make sure that the other three had theirs closed, and murmured the incantation.

He had to do this quickly, mentally flinching from the tearing sensation as part of his soul wrenched away from the rest of his body, leaving it a little limp, the journal falling to the grass. Part of him saw the black of his own closed eyelids, but the other part saw the circle he’d created and the tombstone. He blinked and could see a window that slowly formed glass doors. A curtain billowed, the breeze created by the efforts of the trio and the girl they called.

Dipper reached out and took a hold of the curtain. Back on the ground, his body blew out a shuddering breath while the piece of his spirit yearned to stride through the doors and not come back. Instead, he drew back the curtain and tied it off with shaking hands, and the redhead stepped through. Dipper flashed her a grin before the bit of his soul crashed back into his body. His fingers curled into fists as if holding the tie around the curtain and, in a way, they were.

It hurt, but he watched the girl settle atop the tombstone bearing her name, skirt fluttering in the breeze, and decided it was worth it.

“Hi, Beatrice.”

“Hey, kid. Long time no see.” The redhead flashed him a grin. “You’ve gotten taller.”

He snorted. “So have you.”

“He’s still not as tall as Wirt.”

“Hey!”

Mabel giggled, then gasped when her eyes opened. “Oh my gosh, you’re so pretty! You have freckles!” She poked at Greg, beaming. “You can open your eyes now, baby. Look.”

“Hi, Beatrice!” Greg exclaimed immediately upon opening his eyes, absolutely delighting in Wirt’s little intake of breath letting him know that his brother was now looking at her as well. “Wow! Mabel’s right! You look like a princess!”

The look on her face was born of amusement, her eyes brimming with something deeper as she looked at the seven-year-old. “I don’t know about princess, but thanks, Greg. It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, too! Me and Wirt have missed you! Right, Wirt?” He nudged his brother with his elbow. “He said he didn’t think that we’d ever get to see you again, but that was before he realized that we’re the Mystery Best Friends and that we can do anything if we set our minds to it!”

“To be honest, I didn’t think I’d get to see you guys either. Not like this.” She gestured to them, then to herself, her smile softening as she met Wirt’s gaze and waited a beat for him to give his greeting next. “Hey, come on. You always had some snippy little comeback ready for me when you were in The Unknown, not to mention how you can go on and on when you stop by here,” she gave her gravestone a pat, “and now you can’t say anything? I’m not so sure I believe that you actually missed me.”

Wirt pressed his lips together tightly, his friend’s voice and personality clear as a bell in this body he was still getting used to associating with her. A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed past it, fingers curling into fists to keep from reaching out to her.

“I did miss you,” he managed, all sincerity, and he could see how it affected her in the way her shoulders tensed, like when she fluffed up her feathers, and he knew she wanted to reach out just as much. “I’ve missed you a lot.”

Beatrice blinked rapidly and held her hand up. “Okay, no, you can go back to not talking if you’re going to say things like that,” she told him, trying to mask the thickness rising in her own voice as Wirt huffed out a small laugh. “We don’t have much time like this, and I don’t want to waste it with pointless blubbering.”

It was a good thing Wirt had sat in front of him rather than beside him. Dipper yearned to reach out and take his hand, to offer silent support, but he had to keep his grip firm on the veil. “So you know when they visit?”

“Between Wirt’s babbling and Greg’s enthusiasm, it would be impossible not to.” She rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips at Wirt’s offended little, “hey.” “Some days it’s clearer than others, but even if I can’t hear them, I can usually sense them. You too, in case that was your next question, Mr. Curious. I heard everything.” She puffed her chest out a bit, as if preening. “Glad to see it worked out. You don’t look like the walking dead anymore.”

Dipper huffed, color stealing into his cheeks. “Thanks.”

Mabel leaned over, bumping her shoulder against Wirt’s. She had a question that she was pretty sure they all wanted to know the answer to. “Are you happy? With your family and everything?” Her giggle spilled out again. “And not being a bird?”

“Oh boy, I am so glad I’m not a bird. I mean, I do miss flying from time to time and getting free rides from pushovers who just let me hang out on their shoulders, but I missed having arms more.” Beatrice held them out almost daintily, then flexed them both to make muscles. “And yeah, I’m happy. My family and I are back in our home, all human and all doing pretty great, really.”

“That’s good,” Wirt breathed, relaxing against Mabel and managing a small smile. “I’m glad the scissors worked.”

“And I’m glad to see you all made it home safely. And reunited like you said you would.”

“We had to! We promised we would,” Greg piped up.

“They’re good at keeping promises,” Dipper said, grin reassuring when Wirt glanced back at him.

Mabel nodded. “Yep! Now it’s your turn, Greg. You know you’ve got a million questions in that head of yours.”

“Uh-huh!” Greg grinned at her, then wiggled in her lap as he looked to Beatrice. “This is the most important question!”

“Okay, Greg. I think I’m ready for it,” she replied.

“Do you miss us?”

She blinked, having expected something more along the lines of his earlier questions or his small talk from their adventure. “Of course I do, Greg,” she exhaled, tucking a stray strand of her red hair behind her ear as she managed a sad sort of smile. “You want to know how much?”

He nodded, reassured to feel his brother take his hand to give it a squeeze. “Mmhm.”

“I miss you so much, that I’ve taught all ten of my brothers and sisters all the words to your Adelaide Parade song and Potatoes and Molasses even though they both drive me bonkers,” she told him.

His eyes rounded as he beamed at the thought of other people singing his songs, especially since it was Beatrice and her family. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. I miss you enough that hearing those songs makes me more happy than crazy.”

“That’s good. I want you to be happy and not crazy like banana nut duck bread.” He smiled as she and Wirt laughed. “I wish you could come here and visit us or we could go visit you.”

“Me too, Greg, but we’ll just have to be content with what we can get.” She glanced at Dipper, quietly gauging how he was doing, fast enough not to draw too much attention to it.

“Oh, I’m more than content! This is one of the best surprises ever! It would just be nice to see you more,” Greg amended.

Dipper swallowed, adjusting his fingers quickly. He could feel fabric biting into his palms as if he were gripping rope and knew they’d be red and raw by the time this was over, but Greg’s delight only reaffirmed his determination to hold as long as he could.

Mabel knew he was starting to feel the strain without looking at him, so leaned against Wirt as both support and distraction. “Are you done trying not to cry, sweetie? I know you have questions too.”

“No, I- I’m not crying.” Wirt sniffled hastily, bristling as Beatrice couldn’t help cackling at him and his embarrassment. “And I don’t really have anything in particular, I mean, you can go if you have something you want to say. I just wanted to be sure she was happy and with her family. Yeah. And just… seeing her again. It’s more than enough. It’s perfect.”

“Oh, Wirt. Still the same wonderful mistake of nature you’ve always been.”

“Yeah, okay, I could do without that. It’d be perfect without that.”

“What? I did say you were wonderful. That’s a compliment.” Beatrice shrugged it off.

Mabel kissed his cheek, beaming. “Don’t worry, Wirt. We love you, mistake or not!”

Wirt flushed darkly, lips turned into a pout. “Thanks, Mabel,” he grumbled and Greg giggled at his brother’s reaction, then turned intrigued as an idea lit up in Wirt’s eyes. “Oh, but um… there is something I was wondering if you could check in on. Or pass a message along or something.”

“Wirt, I was a bluebird, not a carrier pigeon,” Beatrice replied dryly.

“No, I know and I mean, you don’t have to do it, I was just wondering if you’d maybe consider it or-”

“Cheese and crackers, Wirt, just spit it out.”

“There’s a girl Greg and I met when we weren’t with you,” he blurted out. “She was possessed by an evil spirit and we helped her and we said we’d meet again sometime, but that’s obviously not going to happen. Could you- could you just let her know why we won’t see her again? And maybe see how she’s doing? Her name’s Lorna and she lives with a woman named Auntie Whispers.”

Beatrice raised an eyebrow. “Adelaide’s sister?”

“Um. Yeah.”

She hummed thoughtfully, taking in Wirt’s genuinely concerned expression, thinking to herself how crazy she’d have driven herself if she never found out what became of them. “I’ll see what I can do,” she promised and he visibly relaxed.

“Thank you.”

“I said ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ I haven’t sealed any deals yet,” she reminded him, despite having every intention to do what he’d asked.

Dipper was growing pale, degree by degree, as the curtain’s weight increased. He still managed a normal laugh. “What, pass this up and miss a reason to get away from ten siblings? I don’t think so.”

This time when Beatrice checked on him, Wirt looked over as well, eyes widening as his pulse quickened. “You do make a good point,” the redhead responded. “If I can take my dog, I’ll probably do it. Anyway, speaking of my ten siblings, I think they’re fighting for my attention right now so it’s about time we wrapped things up here.”

“Aw, do we have to? You only just got here,” Greg pointed out, trying not to sound so completely disheartened.

“I know, and I know it’s not the same, but next time you and Wirt come here, just think of me and talk like you usually do and I’ll try and let you know that I’m with you. I definitely want to hear more about your adventures with Jason Funderburker. Good name, by the way. Definitely suits him.” She grinned as Greg gave her his own smile.

“Okay. I will. Promise.” He crossed his heart. “Thanks for helping Wirt save me, Beatrice.”

“Any time, Greg.”

“Okay, Dipper, you can stop now,” Wirt told his boyfriend, trying to keep the nervous quiver from his voice.

“She has to go through the door first.” He just barely managed to keep his eyes clear, feeling them trying to glaze over. “Stop worrying about me and say goodbye the right way, okay?”

Mabel glanced at her brother, lips pursed, then patted Wirt’s shoulder. “He’s okay, Wirt.” Leaving her hand on his shoulder, she smiled at the redhead. “You know, I was really... I was really kind of upset with you. The Adelaide page stayed when we got home, and... we worried. I’m so glad that everything turned out okay and that we worried for nothing. I’m so, so glad that you’re happy.” Her eyes welled, but she blinked the tears back quickly. “We’ll have to talk again one day, okay?”

“You’re not the only one who was upset with me over that, but thank you for forgiving me. I’m glad you’re happy, too, and together. You all deserve it.” Beatrice nodded. “We will talk again. I don’t doubt it.”

She stood from the gravestone and turned to go, glancing back at the male twin before taking the final steps that would lead her away from them. “Thank you for this. And remember to let him take care of you or he’ll just end up a big, annoying, worrying mess.” Her head jerked in Wirt’s direction, before she focused her gaze on him. “No offense.”

“Oh my gosh, how can someone not be offended by that?”

“A lot of people, but apparently you’re not one of them.”

Dipper was trembling, wishing desperately that he could hold the veil a little longer, but he nodded. “At least he’s a cute, worrying mess.” His grin flashed, albeit exhausted. “Goodbye, Beatrice.”

“Goodbye, Dipper. Bye, Wirt.” She nodded towards the latter.

He bit down on his lower lip, hugging Jason Funderburker tighter. “Goodbye, Beatrice.”

“Bye, Beatrice! Talk to you again soon!” Greg promised. “And that’s a rock fact!”

“Bye, Greg. Mabel. Take care of yourselves.” She waved, then with a flutter of her skirt, the blue of it reminding Wirt of her bluebird feathers when she rustled them, she vanished beyond the veil, the energy crackling in the air around them steadily dissipating.

Dipper uncurled his fingers and it was like a little snap, the tether between him and the veil breaking. “Okay, mission accomplished,” he mumbled and fell onto his side in a dead faint.

Scrambling to his feet, it was mere seconds before Wirt slid right beside him to gather him into his arms. “Dipper!” His grip frantic, he felt for his pulse and for his breath, hardly relieved when both registered. He draped him across his lap to keep him from lying in the dirt, cradling him close to his chest. With trembling fingers he tucked his hat securely over his curls when it threatened to fall.

“What happened? What’s wrong with him?” Greg asked, up from Mabel’s lap, startled by the sudden faint.

“It's a lot of work, holding back the veil. That's, um, the barrier between us and spirits.” Mabel was quick to settle beside Wirt and check Dipper's pulse herself. It was steady, the beat a relief. “He'll be okay. Just needs rest.”

“Right, rest. ‘At most I’ll just need a nap.’” Wirt pursed his lips, worry aggravated and churning in his gut unpleasantly as he held his boyfriend tighter. “Could’ve mentioned something about the nap being immediately. That would’ve been good to know.”

Greg wandered over to them with Jason Funderburker in tow. “Well, look on the bright side, Wirt! The sooner he gets his nap in, the sooner he’ll wake up! Oh! We should make him a snack when we get home, too. Snacks are important, especially after naps.”

“He’ll definitely need it,” Mabel agreed, then bit her lip when her gaze went to Wirt. “Did he really tell you he’d just need a nap?”

The lines around his mouth tightened, the little flicker of hope that Dipper had underestimated the amount of energy it would take or honestly believed he would just need a nap faded in an instant. “Yes.”

“Oh, sweetie. I don’t think you’ve realized that Dipper has basically no idea what’s good for him.” Mabel grinned, patting his shoulder. “Well, he’s going to sleep for a couple hours and then he’ll be starving. But it really isn’t _that_ bad.”

“Do we know that though? Do we actually know it’s not _that_ bad? I mean, why wouldn’t he just come out and say ‘oh, by the way, I might faint afterwards, guys’ just so we could be prepared unless there was something really, really bad that could happen? That he didn’t want us to know? Why wouldn’t he tell me? I thought we were getting past this!” Wirt snapped.

It was the adrenaline coursing through him that made him angry, the residual panic from watching Dipper drop needing somewhere to go since there was nothing to protect him from. Nothing except himself, apparently. Wirt bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep himself in check. Getting mad and shouting wouldn’t help anything. Exhaling heavily, tempering the erratic pounding of his heart, he put a lid on the cacophony of emotions clamouring about inside him. He shifted Dipper in his arms and looked to Mabel for some assistance.

“Can you help me get him on my back? I’ll carry him home.”

“Okay.” But she cupped his cheeks first, searching his gaze. “I’m sorry. He’s done something really close to this before, and it ended up being a little bad. But he said he’d done some more research this time and it wouldn’t end up the same, and it’s not. It’s not the same at all. His pulse is good, he’s already getting color back.

“Maybe we should’ve told you that he was probably going to pass out right after, but he doesn’t... we don’t think like that, Wirt. We’re used to this. You’ve got to try and understand that, okay? We’re not used to people worrying about us.”

“Yeah, well you should be.” He couldn’t bite back his response, unable to regain his composure when Mabel held his gaze, her hands gentle enough that he couldn’t look away. “Or at least start getting used to it because that’s what I do and you’ve got to understand that not telling me things like this isn’t going to work. I can’t do things like this with you guys if you don’t because how am I going to know if you’re just downplaying something or if it’s actually something safe? How will Greg know? How would you guys like it if we started downplaying things? I bet you wouldn’t. You’d want to know, wouldn’t you? Even if there was nothing you could do about it, it would- I- you- you’d still want to know.”

It was her gaze that fell, hands wringing together as she gazed at her twin and then at Greg, who was watching quietly with his trusty frog held close. “Oh my gosh, you guys are so sweet and normal.” She looked back at Wirt. “We would never put you and Greg in any danger. Absolutely never. We only downplay things when... Well, when it’s Dipper.”

Her brow furrowed, lips pursing. “That... that sounds really bad to say that out loud, actually. But he gets something in his head and he doesn’t let it go. And... and we get told no a lot at home over nothing, so downplaying things is kind of a defense mechanism. I guess.”

Wirt glanced down at Dipper. He knew it was always when it was Dipper, they’d had that conversation. Of course Mabel didn’t know about it, but her twin certainly did. He’d been there. They’d agreed to be each other’s shields. How was he supposed to do his part to shield him if he didn’t even know what he was supposed to be looking out for? The potential risks and dangers - not to them, necessarily, but to Dipper.

“It doesn’t matter if we’re not the ones in danger,” Greg piped up after a moment, biting down on his lip. “I don’t want to see anything bad happen to you or Dipper. Even if it’s for a surprise. I don’t like seeing him get hurt. I mean… I guess sometimes he’ll have to, or you or Wirt, and I’m not gonna tell you no or anything, but I’d like to help. I think that’s what Wirt means. We’re not gonna stop you unless it’s something really, really dumb, we just want to be with you. Because that’s what Mystery Best Friends should do, right? Be there for each other?”

“Oh, baby.” Mabel tugged the boy into her lap, giving him a squeeze and his frog a pat. “You’re right. That’s exactly what we’re supposed to do.” She reached a hand out, laying it over Wirt’s arm. “I’m sorry. I really just didn’t think... I’m so used to it. I’m used to things like this, so I didn’t think about how it might seem bad to you guys.”

“It’s okay.” Greg snuggled against her, resting his cheek on her shoulder. “It’s hard to get used to new things sometimes. But this is a good change. Now you and Dipper don’t have to be alone anymore and neither do me and Wirt. We can talk to each other.”

“Yeah,” Wirt agreed when his little brother looked to him to reaffirm that, then flicked his gaze up to Mabel. “I know he’s stubborn, and I know this probably won’t be the last time he does something like this, so I’m going to need your help to make sure whatever he decides to do isn’t going to get him killed. Promise you’ll let me know the details when he won’t? Please, Mabel.”

She bit her lip, a little uncertain. She’d picked others over her twin before and it had never ended well for either of them. But this was different. Greg and Wirt and the impact they’d made on the twins’ lives were very different from anything else they’d dealt with.

Mabel nodded, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “I promise. When I know the details, I’ll tell you if he won’t. Maybe he’ll get the memo and stop being his dumb self and just start telling you right away.”

“That’s what I’m hoping. I mean, I don’t want to go behind his back, that’s like, the opposite of what I want to do, so I’m going to let him know that I’m going to find out one way or another and it can either be from him or, you know, wherever I can get resources from. It’s his call.” Wirt swallowed, then nodded resolutely.

“Okay.” She tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “Nice strategy. Also, um, just a tip. But if he ever won’t let you do something, but he’s willing to, it’s probably not a very good idea.”

“Good to know. Thanks.” Wirt glanced down at his boyfriend with a soft sigh, the churning in his belly a little more at ease with Mabel’s understanding and the color returning to Dipper’s cheeks. “Come on, let’s get him home.”

“Right! Don’t be too mad at him, though. He really did do this way more responsibly than the last time he tried something like this. I mean, he was trying to get this pretty nasty ghost to go through the veil rather than letting one out to talk and it was kind of an immediate sort of situation, but... yeah. This time, he was actually careful.” She helped get Dipper onto his back as she spoke, smile returning. “You’ve changed that much about his habits at least. You and Greg both.”

Wirt hiked Dipper up a little further to make sure he was safe and steady on his back, then looked to Mabel a little skeptically. “Yeah?”

“He doesn’t take the time to make salt rings or pay attention to where he’s sitting or any of that.” She grabbed his bag, swinging it over her shoulder before taking Greg’s hand. “He doesn’t do extra research on things he’s already done before either. He’s a bare minimum kinda guy, but he wasn’t today.”

Wirt blinked, heart warming to war with the guilt rippling in his stomach. His hold on Dipper’s legs tightened, doing his best to glance back at him. As much as it pained him that Dipper wouldn’t think twice before taking a hit - even if he didn’t need to - he could understand, to some degree, why he felt the need to. Not to mention he’d been doing things like this since he was twelve and had made it to fifteen relatively unscathed, so if anything that would only encourage his boyfriend to continue on the path of recklessness he’d set for himself.

So to hear that it was changing, even if in small ways Wirt couldn’t necessarily see, it did ease his mind some and erased what anger lingered. No, he wasn’t angry with him. Frustrated, maybe, but not angry. He’d done what he thought he had to so he could give them all a chance to talk with Beatrice. To make him happy.

If only it would get through to him that he didn’t need grand, debilitating gestures to be happy. He was happy just having him.

Well, that would just need to be something they’d need to discuss some more then. After his nap and snack, of course. Wirt managed a nod in Mabel’s direction, the look he sent her gracious for letting him know, then allowed her and Greg to take the lead in guiding them out of the Eternal Garden cemetery and back towards home.

 

\----

 

There was a plate filled with apple slices sitting on Wirt’s nightstand waiting for Dipper when he woke up. Greg had personally seen to preparing his snack for him - or at least supervised the snack making when he couldn’t use the knife. He did bring Wirt an orange though, unpeeled so his brother could twist the rind off to his liking as he laid on the side of the bed exposed to the edge, Dipper tucked away between him and the wall, his trusty cap hung on his bedpost. Chunks of orange peel were scattered over the bedside tabletop, a napkin resting on his chest as he sucked the juice from the sections to keep from getting it on the book he’d set himself up with.

They didn’t know if he’d be asleep for minutes or hours, but Wirt was content to sit with him and wait it out. When he wasn’t lost in the pages of his book or scribbling thoughts and verses down on the notebook he kept close, he was lost in the steady sound of Dipper’s breathing and the peace over his face. Like he knew he was safe there. It was a silly thought, Wirt mused between chewing and watching, but he liked the notion nonetheless.

It was two hours before the peace dissolved, replacing by a scrunch as awareness filtered through the dreamless sleep he’d been steeped in. Almost as quickly as he’d fallen asleep, he stirred and mumbled his boyfriend’s name, reaching for him without knowing for sure if he’d be there or not.

Wirt set aside his poetry immediately, remaining sections of his orange balled up in a napkin to follow suit before rolling onto his side to tug Dipper close to his chest. “Hey, I’m here,” he murmured, stroking along his back as he searched his face. “You awake?”

“Mmhm. Just...” He buried his face into the crook of Wirt’s neck, shivering as his faculties returned, memories along with it. “Headache. Starving.”

“Greg brought you some apples. You want to start with those and see how you’re feeling?” His brow furrowed a little as he held him tighter, the shivering making his heart stutter with concern.

“Yeah.” He squinted, testing the light around them, slowly deemed it safe for his aching head. He didn't move away from his boyfriend, though, staying close. “Your room?”

“Mmhm.” Wirt nodded, keeping his voice soft for his head. He sat up just enough to reach for the plate, then set it between them so Dipper had easy access to it. “Do you… do you remember what happened?”

The slices were a little browned from being out, but Dipper didn’t mind. Stomach cramping with hunger, he quickly ate two before responding. “Yeah. It hit me faster than I thought it would. Like a lot faster.”

Wirt’s eyes didn’t leave him as he watched him scarf down the apple, briefly debating getting him something a bit more substantial when he was done. “So, you honestly didn’t think you’d just… pass out at the end? That wasn’t part of the plan?”

“No. Figured I'd at least make it back here first.” Rubbing his temple, he glanced up. “Did you freak out?”

“What? Pfft, no.” Wirt did look away at that, fiddling with his comforter. “Who would freak out seeing their boyfriend collapse in the dirt after claiming he’d just need a nap? You know, after watching him get paler with no real idea what keeping the- the veil open was doing to him. Thinking maybe something went wrong or that… he didn’t tell me everything… Yeah, I freaked out. What did you expect?”

Dipper flinched. “Sorry. I really didn't think- I mean, it really wasn't on purpose.” He downed another apple slice, squirming. “I guess I should've used the candles after all, but it was okay until it just wasn't. I was fine, holding the veil, and then...” He rubbed the back of his neck a moment, fidgeting as nerves rose and joined the headache and lingering exhaustion. “If I thought I was gonna pass out, I would've told you. I'm... I'm trying to do things - this you and me thing - the right way, and we- we talked about this.” He looked down, fiddling with the last slice. “Were you... Are you mad at me?”

Even if he still had been, it would’ve been impossible to maintain with the way Dipper squirmed as if expecting his wrath, or his disappointment. Wirt tangled their legs together as he inched closer, arm going back to wrapping around him. “No. I mean… I was at first, but not anymore. I talked with Mabel about it and that… that kinda helped. Gave me some perspective. So I’m not mad at you. Especially when you say you didn’t think it would get that bad. Like, that’s out of your control and I understand that. It’s just the thought of you hiding things from me or downplaying serious stuff that… gets under my skin. You know?” His hand went to the nape of his neck and he tried to do his best to knead some of the tension away. “I was mostly worried. Scared that something had gone wrong.”

“No, I just underestimated how much energy that was really gonna take. I didn’t downplay it, man. I-” Dipper bit his lip, tucking his head beneath his boyfriend’s chin. “I trust you to handle stuff when it gets serious. You can’t really shield me if you don’t know where the hits are coming from.”

The words were a balm that quickly and thoroughly soothed the ache that had sprung up. Wirt pulled him closer and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “That’s… that’s kinda what I was thinking, so… thank you. It means a lot.” He gave him a squeeze. “I’m sorry for doubting you. For not… trusting that you’d been honest with me.”

“Well, I haven’t really been good at that so far, and I did think about it. You know, just telling you nothing could go wrong and it’d be fine. But if we’re gonna make it through being away from each other, I’ve got to trust you while you’re right here. I want to make it through, Wirt. I love you.”

“I…” Wirt pursed his lips, heart pounding at the admission. He slid down a little, tipping Dipper’s chin up so he could press a kiss to each cheek, then one to his lips. “We’re going to make it through. I believe in us. I believe in you. And… and I know it’s hard for you and I should be more patient. I mean, it’s not something that can just change overnight with a promise. You’re… you’re trying and that’s what matters. It matters a lot.”

Dipper threaded his fingers through Wirt’s hair, offering a smile. His head still hurt and he very easily could’ve gone back to sleep, but his heart settled. They were still okay. “I’m kind of annoyed that I passed out, though. Seriously. I don’t even know if you and Greg liked seeing her or anything. That was the whole point.”

“Of course we liked seeing her. It was incredible and I know it meant a lot for Greg to get to see her again. It did for me, too, but he didn’t really get to say goodbye, so I’m glad he could.” He returned the smile for a moment, then attempted a stern look. “But seriously, let’s save the whole expending all your energy thing for dire situations only. You don’t have to win us over with these huge, grand gestures. You already have.

“And your health is so important to both of us. I mean, that’s not to say you can’t show us cool things like the nymphs or giant frogs, I’m just asking that you maybe not use yourself as a… conduit for these kinds of things in the future.” Wirt squirmed a little, expression turning a bit hesitant as he considered Mabel’s earlier words alongside what he already knew about his stubborn boyfriend. “I don’t want you to be hurt doing something nice for me if we can help it. Is that okay?”

“I...” Dipper ran his tongue over his teeth before dropping his face into the curve of Wirt’s neck. “I’ll try. I can’t promise that I won’t because this is... It’s the stuff I do. But I can promise to try.”

Wirt caressed along his back. “I know it is. And it’s part of why I- ...it’s part of what makes you you and I cherish all of that. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do those things for me to want to be with you. I appreciate it, of course, and show me whatever you want because I do want to see it. I want to be part of your life and see all that goes into it and get excited with you, but if we could keep your passing out to a minimum that’d be good. As strange as it may seem, I do like it when you’re awake and alert enough to talk and cuddle with.”

He started to deny it - he hadn’t let him talk to Beatrice so Wirt would want to stay with him - but couldn’t get the words out through the insecurities that flared. _Why else would he stay with you? What are you good for? No one else wants to be around you._ Instead he burrowed as close as he could and mumbled something indecipherable against his neck.

“Hm?” Wirt blinked, picking at his shirt to get him to look up. “What did you say?”

Dipper shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about it, his loneliness and the insecurities wrapped in it. “I know I don’t have to do things for you, but I like to. I want to. You’re special.”

“I know, but… I don’t know. Would you like it if it was reversed? If you can honestly say you’d be okay with me putting myself at risk to do something for you, then- then I’ll try and be okay with it, too.”

“That's-” Dipper set the empty plate aside before rolling atop his boyfriend to frown down at him. “That's totally different.”

Wirt’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

“Because-” Because he took the hits. Dipper cut himself off, plucking at the fabric of his sweater. It was their shield conversation again. “Okay, so maybe it’s not... not _that_ different. I wouldn’t want you to put yourself in danger just to do something for me. But I don’t, like... I don’t know what’s dangerous for me sometimes, which is probably dumb. But I’m used to it.”

The fact that Dipper realized his protests would carry them back few steps set him at ease. “Okay. That’s a fair point. I’ll just have to stick around to make sure you don’t do anything dumb. I mean, that was the plan anyway, but now I’m even more determined.” Wirt looped his arms around him, tugging him against him as he craned his neck back to nudge their foreheads together. “If you’re not sure if something’s dangerous for you, put me or Mabel or Greg in your place.”

“I'm never leaving the house again,” he joked and lightly nipped Wirt's lower lip. “But I'll give it a shot, okay? If it doesn't work, maybe you being sensible will. One of us has to be.”

“Sounds like we both have challenges ahead of us, then.” Wirt grinned at him, pleased by his willingness to try and open to being trusted to discuss future decisions with. “You do make it pretty difficult to think straight, let alone sensible thoughts.”

He laughed, happy to cuddle him. “I love you, man.” Dipper gave him a sound kiss before wriggling away. “Come on. I'm _starving_ and would really appreciate my cute, smart boyfriend if he made me a sandwich.”

“I think I can manage that,” Wirt chuckled, sitting up to follow him off the bed, fingers going to his temples to massage as he sidled up behind him. “How about some painkillers for that headache, too?”

Humming, he leaned closer. “It's almost gone, but yeah.”

“Alright. One sandwich, some medicine, and one cute, smart boyfriend coming up.” Wirt’s hand went to cup his cheeks, tilting his head towards him so he could brush his lips to his brow. If he couldn’t stop him from doing dangerous things, then at the very least he’d be there to take care of him afterwards. Even when they’d be apart, the inevitable only days away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beatrice makes another appearance!
> 
> Sorry for the late update, guys! Also, we're going to have to ask for your patience as we push back chapter 18 to next Friday. We finished this chapter last night basically, and between Skimming being sick and Syl being out of town for the weekend, there's no way we'll have 18 ready for Monday. But! We will post chapter 8 of Will Cook for Food on Monday instead of Lakeville in an attempt to make up for it. Sorry for the inconsistencies in updates for these past few weeks, but summer is unpredictable. Once we start on our side story and part four the updates should stay much smoother since they're basically all written and just need to be edited and tweaked to fit into what we've done with LCOL. 
> 
> So, thanks for your patience and support, everyone! We're happy that you're still enjoying our little series here and hope that you continue to do so as we tackle the next few chapters of their lives.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay with this chapter, everyone! Between it being the last and us being busy bees the past few weekends, it just didn't want to get written! But here it is, just in time for the new episode of Gravity Falls! Enjoy!

Their final days were spent wrapped in one another. Not only Wirt and Dipper, but the four of them together. Every member of the quartet knew that time was limited and not a second could be wasted. They camped out in the living room at night, the twins delighting in sharing their secrets in creating the finest of blanket forts.

Board games were played, trips to the park taken. The mucous in the water had dissipated considerably and why was a secret between them. An adventure shared in Lakeville, city of lakes.

Dipper also made good on his promise to load the Palmer-Whelan household with protection. Little charms, little items created to ensure safety. He filled the better part of one of Wirt’s many notebooks with tips and tricks for dealing with the paranormal and avoiding it. He explained a few very small rituals to Greg and Wirt alike to shroud their home in protection from all manner of things, making sure that they could feel safe even without the twins around.

And, of course, they still had Mabel’s old grappling hook, which she absolutely took advantage of one day as they strolled through the woods, swinging on branches with Greg while Dipper hid a grin and rolled his eyes, holding his nervous boyfriend’s hand while he very slowly relaxed.

Their last full day together found the four of them sprawled on the living room rug while music played from Dipper’s laptop and a board game in the middle. Their suitcases were still unpacked, but it wasn’t mentioned. None of them wanted to think about packing.

When Greg took a third round, Dipper laughed and dropped his cheek to his boyfriend’s shoulder. “I think he’s cheating,” he not-so-quietly whispered.

“What? Greg cheat? What sort of blasphemy are you speaking of?” Wirt grinned, nudging him playfully.

“I live and play by a very strict code of honor.” Greg pressed his hand over his heart, chin lifting as he nodded solemnly.

“If there's honor in cheating, maybe.”

Laughing, Mabel ruffled the boy's hair. “I don't think it's possible to lose at a game you make up the rules for.”

“Well, my honor code is all about me winning,” Greg pointed out, beaming at her. “So as long as I win, I’m upholding it.”

Wirt shook his head on his own chuckle. “Maybe we should play a different game. One where the rules stay relatively the same throughout and are preferably printed on an instruction booklet.”

“Do you even have any games with instructions?”

Mabel nodded. “They're in a drawer.”

“Wirt loves to play games with instructions, so we had to keep them just in case he ever wanted to play the boring way,” Greg added.

“It’s not that I ‘love’ to play with instructions, it’s just that they usually make sense and sometimes I like to play a game the way it’s meant to be played.” Wirt shrugged, then stuck his tongue out at Greg when his little brother made a face at him.

“Let's give the boring way a shot,” Mabel decided, giggling. “And, Dipper, really, how did you not know where the instructions are? We've been here a month.”

“Maybe because I don't dig through drawers like a creep.”

She shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Wirt blinked, then raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Wait, have you seriously been rifling through our drawers and stuff just to see what’s in them?”

“What? Pfft. No. I would never-” She nodded. “Yes. That's what I've been doing, yeah. You have - had - seven triple A batteries in the desk in the office, and none of them worked.”

“You tested them all?”

“Well, after the first two, why not?”

“Oh. Well, I guess that makes sense if you needed batteries,” Wirt mused, pushing himself up to stand to peruse their collection of board games. “I hope you found some that worked. What did you need them for?”

“I didn't. It was just funny seeing seven batteries rolling around in a desk.”

Dipper snorted, rising to follow his boyfriend. “I'm not surprised.”

Wirt waited for him, looping his arm around his waist when he was close enough. “Coming to check out the games with me?” he asked as he kissed his cheek.

“Gotta make sure you don't pick something awful.” Bumping their hips together, Dipper grinned. “Plus, you're kinda cute.”

“What? Only kinda?” Wirt let go of him with a wrinkle to his nose, stepping ahead of him. “And to think I was gonna let you have a vote in what we play next.”

Dipper laughed, wrapping his arms around him from behind and tugging him close, halting his progress entirely. “Kinda cute, the cutest boyfriend ever - they’re the same thing, right?”

“Pfft. Are they?” Wirt bit back his grin, wriggling a little in his grasp only to quickly give in and lean against him.

He lifted up to his toes, lightly nipping at the back of his neck. “When it’s you, obviously.”

“Oh, of course obviously. I don’t know how I could’ve missed something so obvious.” Wirt gripped his arms, giving them a squeeze, then turned so he could face him. He adjusted the bill of Dipper’s cap, leaning in to give his lips a nippy, little kiss in return.

He didn’t jump at the hand on his cap, didn’t think to as he laughed and reached up to hold on. “We can’t all be geniuses like me, I guess. Such a shame.”

“My supposed cuteness makes up for it.” Pleased by the angle so it would allow them to kiss more without getting bumped by the bill, Wirt let his hands fall to Dipper’s hips as he continued to try and kiss him through his laughter. “You can be the genius, and I can stand next to you looking kinda cute.”

“Anyone else can stand around being jealous,” he added, quelling the laughter long enough to sink into a kiss. Each one counted as their month dwindled to mere hours.

“Mm…” Wirt hummed into it, one of his soft sounds escaping as their tongues brushed when it deepened. His fingers curled in his shirt to keep him close, well-aware of the time that was slipping away from them, a selfish little part of him ready to cling and refuse to let him go. He still wasn’t ready.

A month only reinforced just how much he wanted Dipper in his life, and how much he wanted to be in his back. It didn’t matter that school was starting soon - sooner for the twins than him and Greg - or that he’d be with his dad soon for his birthday, he wasn’t ready to let Dipper go and wanted to demand another day or two days, much like how they’d begged in Oregon. Another day or two wouldn’t make a difference though, not really. Wirt was pretty certain he wouldn’t ever be ready to say goodbye, no matter how long they had. They just had to enjoy what they had now and the time that was left.

He broke their kiss to take a breath, though stayed close as he tightened his grip on his shirt. “Yeah… they’ll all wish the boy with the brilliant mind was theirs.”

“No, they’ll wonder how I managed to find this really cute guy.” Dipper rubbed their noses together. “Don’t be sad, okay?” he murmured, a hand stealing into his hair to stroke the messy strands. “I don’t want us to spend today being sad.”

“I’m not,” he denied, shaking his head as his chest hitched and he swallowed down the sadness that threatened to rise in his throat at being named. They couldn’t talk about it, not yet. They needed to just keep laughing and smiling, that would keep the melancholy feelings at bay. “I’m fine. I can be fine. Let’s pick a game.” Wirt let go of him and took a step back, glancing over his shoulder for the hall closet where the games Greg hadn’t claimed for himself had been tucked away.

“We’ll both be fine.” Dipper caught his hand, pressing the back of it to his lips. “So what do you have that’s hard enough for us to totally win but won’t bore Greg?”

Wirt paused, exhaling slowly at the light kiss to his hand until he relaxed. Right, he wasn’t the only one having a hard time with this. None of them wanted this to happen, it was just the way things had to be. He squeezed Dipper’s hand, then tugged him over to the closet and opened it. “We’ve got a few choices, I think. Greg doesn’t get bored by much and if it’s too difficult he can team up with you, me, or Mabel. I mean, that’s what he usually does with the games he’s too little for.” Wirt skimmed the stack of board games, then huffed out a laugh as he pointed to one. “He is a fan of Clue. Bet you’d never have guessed that though, right?”

“Oh, yeah. He’s such a tame child. Why would he ever like Clue?” Grinning, he bumped their hips together. “Let’s do it.”

Wirt smiled back, then tried to wrestle the board game out with one hand. He had to let go of Dipper’s to keep the pile from tumbling, but once he had it securely tucked under his arm he reached back for him. “So are you more of a Miss Scarlet or a Colonel Mustard?” he teased, lacing their fingers together.

“Excuse you.” He bumped their hips together again. “Colonel Mustard all the way, man.”

“I don’t know, you’re really pretty,” Wirt hummed, lips quirking up as he bumped back. “Too pretty to be this guy, I’d think.” He nodded towards the cover of the box.

“Pssh. You’re prettier than I am. You can be Miss Scarlet.”

“But I’m always Mrs. Peacock.” He grinned, letting go of his hand to tug the bill of his hat down. “I like blue.”

“Jerk,” Dipper laughed, shifting away from him to push it back up. He ended up flipping it off entirely and dropping it onto Wirt’s head instead, pulling the bill low. “See how you like it.”

Wirt’s heart skipped a beat, his gasp turning into a breathless giggle as his vision was reduced to the worn fabric. He lifted his hand to right the hat, but paused as his fingers brushed the bill. Color flooded his cheeks as he pressed his lips together, actually relieved to have the hat hiding most of his face and his reaction to Dipper placing his hat on his head. It was special to Dipper, yeah, but it still seemed kind of silly for it to inspire such giddy butterflies for him.

So he left it a minute, going along with their game once his heart settled, though his blush remained. “I do like it, actually,” he replied, tone blithe and facetious as he shrugged. “This is so comfy. Looks like your plan backfired.”

“I think I won in a different way, so I'm okay with that.” He reached up, poking his cheeks as his twin tended to do. “Plus, I'll get to see your awful hat hair when I get it back.”

The color in his face only deepened and he tilted his head up a little to see Dipper past the brim of the hat. “Or maybe never. Maybe you’ll never get it back.” His hand pushed down on the top of the cap to secure it firmly to his head and stayed there.

Dipper was tempted to promise he could keep it, tempted to leave that important piece of himself behind. But there were Pitt Colas in the fridge and one of his t-shirts was already in Wirt’s drawer and who knew what he’d forget when packing the next morning? Besides, the hat was his symbol, as much a part of him as the color of his eyes or the curls in his hair.

He let him wear it, though, taking his hand with a laugh and pulling him back to the living room to join their siblings for a round of Clue and to hear the plan they’d concocted for their last night together.

Camping.

Later that night, just before the sun began to set on their final day together, the four of them were gathering supplies to create a fort-like tent in the backyard and Jonathan helped Dipper select a safe place to start a fire when Amy surprised them with the makings for s’mores.

His hat back on his head, Dipper left Jonathan to help his boyfriend carry a pile of blankets and pillows and not fall on his face. He grinned, taking a pillow from the top of the stack before it could fall to the ground. “Did you somehow find _more_ blankets than last time?”

“Don’t underestimate my ability to find blankets,” Wirt laughed, flashing him a grateful smile as his fluffy burden was made easier. “Where there’s a blanket, there’s a way. Though I can’t really see which way I’m going around this thing,” he bounced the pile of blankets and pillows for emphasis, “so I might require some guidance, if you’d be so kind.”

“Well, don’t fall on your face.” After stepping to his side to have enough room to bob up and kiss his cheek, Dipper carefully took a few blankets from him. “So far so good.”

“Dipper, I haven’t even moved yet. It’s not like I’m going to fall just standing here.” Wirt puffed up his cheeks in a mildly unimpressed look.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t put it passed you, man.” Dipper stuck out his tongue.

“Let’s go, waffles! We have a fort to build!” Mabel called.

“And s’mores to eat!” Greg chirped from behind them, then gave Wirt a shove to get him moving, ultimately resulting in a squeak, gasp, and helpless stumbling before he tumbled off the porch. “Whoops. Sorry, Wirt.”

Dipper laughed after his boyfriend’s mild glare was enough reassurance that he wasn’t hurt, passing one of the pillows to the youngest member of their group. “Go help Mabel pick the best spot so we can get this fort built, corporal.”

“Yes sir, Admiral Dipper, sir!” Greg giggled, taking the pillow and hopping over his brother’s fallen body. He paused a minute before completely passing him, glancing down at him when he buried his face in one of the blankets. “Hey, Wirt,” he piped up, grinning broadly. “What’re you doing lying down on the job?”

When he was swiped at, Greg ran off towards Mabel with a laugh and Wirt’s arm flailed uselessly before he let it flop on the grass. He heaved out a heavy sigh that was mostly muffled by the blanket cushion, continuing to impersonate a limp ragdoll for a beat, then lifted his arm again, this time seeking assistance rather than something to hit.

Dipper set what he’d grabbed aside, latching onto his boyfriend to help him up. He couldn’t help but snicker, though. “What happened to not falling just standing there?” he teased.

“I didn’t calculate interference from Greg into that equation. You can’t hold that against me,” Wirt defended, petulant as he stuck his tongue out at his too-amused boyfriend, then gathered up the fallen linens back into his arms.

“Expect the unexpected,” Dipper reminded him, bundling the few blankets he had. He led the way to their siblings, making sure his boyfriend didn’t fall over again.

The perfect spot to build their fort had been decided unanimously by Greg, Mabel, and Jason Funderburker to be just to the left of the big elm tree, close enough for some of the higher branches to fan out overhead. The grass was softest there, at least that was what Greg and Jason Funderburker firmly believed, and would be the most comfortable for sleeping on. With all of the fort-making supplies spread out, the four of them got to work. It was fitting, setting up something out of blankets and pillows similar to what they’d done in the living room rather than getting out the tent they had in the garage. They’d made one in Gravity Falls and Wirt had also made a rather simple version the night he and Dipper finally talked about his nightmares. Blanket forts were the way to go with the Mystery Best Friends.

“So are we gonna get to spend the whole night outside in the backyard tonight?” Greg asked, just for clarification.

“That’s right,” Wirt confirmed, ruffling his hair as the two of them worked on spreading out enough blankets for the four of them to sleep on. “We’ll be out here the whole night.” And this time, since their parents knew they were out here, the sprinklers had already been shut off, so there would be no rude awakenings come morning.

“Wow! Just like real camping!” Greg waved his arms in the air excitedly, then flopped onto the blankets, making them bunch up as he cheered.

Mabel giggled. “Of course! We have to go camping at least once. It's summer.” For one more night, it was summer.

Greg tilted his head back to look at her upside-down. “Can we go camping again next summer, too? In the backyard _and_ in the woods?”

“You bet. Dipper and I know all the good camping spots in Gravity Falls.” All the safe ones. She flopped down beside him and Dipper smiled at Wirt before joining them in the half-finished fort.

He rolled onto his back, pulling Greg onto his chest for a tight hug. “Yeah. We'll have to camp more next summer, shortstop. We will.”

“Is that a rock fact?” he asked, his arms ready to cling around Dipper’s neck and snuggle in as he allowed the tight hug, well-aware that there wouldn’t be many more after it. Not for a whole year.

“An absolutely true rock fact.” Dipper sat up, keeping Greg close, and reached out for his boyfriend. His twin needed no prompting to scoot closer and rub the boy's back.

Wirt’s heart rose to his throat, a tight lump to swallow past as he slid over to them. He eased behind Dipper, chest to his back and legs on either side of him, arms encircling his stomach. His eyes found Mabel’s over his shoulder and he smiled for her, a little sad, yes, but a lot more grateful that she’d decided to do this - get both her and her twin to them for the rest of the summer. Even if it would be close to unbearable to see them go, it had been worth it. It had been completely worth it.

Mabel returned the smile and reached out to playfully ruffle his hair. She was just as grateful to him. He was stronger than he seemed at first or even second glance, and her brother needed someone strong enough to stand by his side.

Just as much as he needed someone soft enough to snuggle back against. He leaned into his boyfriend, comfortable in his arms. “I know we've got matches and everything to start a fire, but I say we find rocks anyway.”

Mabel gasped. “Yes! Mystery Best Friends always start campfires with rocks. It's settled.”

“That’s the only way to do it!” Greg agreed, brightening at the prospect of imitating their past campfires. “Can I find the smooth, round rocks? I’m getting really good at it!”

“Yeah, man. You're the best.”

“Come on, Greg.” Mabel rose, grin bright. “Let's leave construction to the waffles and get some rocks. We'll impress your dad with our stellar campfire skills.”

“He’s always impressed by every camp skill,” Greg chirped, beaming at her as he scrambled off Dipper’s lap and went to tug Mabel up. “Let’s do it!”

“You really trust us waffles to construct this fort?” Wirt grinned, squeezing his boyfriend playfully.

“Well, Dipper’s the man with a plan and you like building and designing things,” Greg pointed out. “I think you’re the perfect waffles for the job.”

“Well, we're kind of just perfect in general, so...”

“Oh my gosh, Dipper. Nobody asked your ego,” Mabel teased, sticking her tongue out at him, then followed Greg as he bolted from the fort.

“Yeah, get that ego under control, admiral,” Wirt laughed, rocking him from side to side. “Though I do have to admit, you are pretty perfect.”

“That's not helping control my ego,” he pointed out, tipping his head back to rest it on Wirt's shoulder.

“Well, that’s not my job. That’s yours.”

Dipper shifted to press a kiss to his neck, amused. “As my perfect boyfriend, you should be on top of these things, pilgrim.”

“Hey, I never claimed to be perfect,” he defended, fingers skimming lightly over his stomach. “But I could probably find some ways to keep you in check.”

He squirmed. “Don't.”

“No?” Wirt laughed, hugging him tightly. “How about this then?” He pressed a kiss to his shoulder through his shirt, then another to his neck. “This a better way of controlling your ego?”

Dipper had to bite back a giggle, his squirming only increasing. “Maybe. Keep trying, and I'll let you know when I'm feeling humble.”

“Okay,” Wirt hummed against his skin, purposefully making the next few kisses quick and light to tickle him. “I can definitely keep trying.”

“Wirt, that’s not cool!” A giggle escaped, and Dipper ducked his head in an effort to escape the ticklish kisses.

“What? I’m just kissing my pretty perfect boyfriend into humbleness.” Wirt nuzzled him, waiting for him to lift his head before brushing his lips to the tip of his nose. “You’re the one who told me to keep trying.”

“You’re such a jerk.” Dipper kissed him soundly, their lips meeting this time, before wriggling out of his hold. “Come on. We’ve got a task to complete.”

Wirt sighed, but let him go, planting his hands behind him as he reclined using his arms to prop himself up. “Aye aye, admiral. But can I request permission to kiss you while we work if it doesn’t tickle you?”

“Permission granted, captain.” He laughed. “Kiss to your heart’s content.”

He did, in fact, kiss him to his heart’s content and then some, though he did restrain himself in order to actually get the fort ready to go before dinner. Jonathan was grilling hot dogs and burgers for them while Amy boiled a few ears of corn and cut up watermelon she picked up along with the marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate bars. A dinner fit for camping, perfect for a summer’s night. The last night of summer, really. As far as the four of them considered.

Using the tree and the fence, they strung up a line and draped several lighter blankets over the thick ones padding the ground. It was open on one side, facing towards where their fire would be, and lined with a small wall of pillows. It was an enhanced version of the blanket nest Wirt had made before, except with more planning and light available to them while they set it up. And more blankets and pillows.

“Since we finished putting it together, I say we get to stake out where we sleep first. It’s only fair.” Wirt bumped his hip to Dipper’s as they surveyed their fort, knowing full well that whatever they decided would be disturbed upon their siblings’ return regardless.

Dipper snickered and crawled in just to sprawl and take up as much space right in the middle as possible. “This works.”

“You’re a genius,” Wirt laughed, peering inside at him. “Got room for me in there?”

“I’ve always got room for you, pilgrim.” Dipper reached for him, grin bright and mischievous. “And you’ve got longer limbs, so we can take up even more space.”

“Ah, the perks of having gangly, awkward limbs have finally been realized,” Wirt chuckled, reaching back dramatically before ducking into the fort, taking a moment to straddle Dipper’s waist. “My limbs are at your disposal. Where do you want me? I’m partial to the left of you, I think.”

“That works since I'm partial to you being on my left.” Dipper grinned up at him, patting his waist. “Come on, man. We need all the space before they try to take it away.”

Wirt leaned down and stole a quick kiss, then rolled to his side, taking his left hand while he stretched out to take up as much space as he could, their legs brushing as he laughed. “Let them try and take the space from us.”

“They’ll never manage it.” Dipper laced their fingers, not meaning Mabel and Greg and not meaning the space in the little fort. The sadness he kept telling everyone not to feel welled up, and he closed his eyes tightly against it. He listened to the way his boyfriend laughed, shifting his fingers just to feel them touch, felt the warmth of his leg.

It would be gone the next day. They’d be on different coasts again. Heart tightening, he opened his eyes and watched him laugh instead, gaze tracing the lines of his face and the scrunch of his nose. He was cute and sweet, stubborn and strong. He rolled over, leg hooking over his waist, face buried in his shoulder as his fingers curled into his sweater. “Just in case, this is the contingency plan if they do.”

“I think I like this plan. Seems foolproof, but I’m not sure it gets us the most space in the end,” Wirt wiggled until his right arm easily curved beneath Dipper to keep him tucked against his side, mirth fading like a faint summer breeze in the heat of the day as his boyfriend clung to him. His heart stuttered and he pulled him closer. “I thought- I thought we weren’t going to be sad.”

Even the words were thick in his throat and Wirt knew, despite Dipper’s attempts to keep them from dwelling on it, that there was no way really to keep them from feeling sad. They would be far apart this time tomorrow, with no way of knowing how soon they’d be able to see one another again. Feel one another. His other arm came around to complete the circle, holding Dipper completely. “It’s okay if you are,” he murmured.

“I don't want to be.” He pressed flush against his side, holding a little tighter. “And I know it won't be as bad as it was before, but I just... I'll miss things like this. It sucks.”

“I know.” Wirt closed his eyes, pressing his cheek against Dipper’s hat, the worn fabric scraping against it as the companionable warmth of his body spread through him. “I’m gonna miss you. I don’t want you to go.”

“Come with me. You can hide in my suitcase, and we’ll put Greg in Mabel’s. It’s foolproof.”

“Okay. Mom and Jonathan can just mail the things we’ll need to your house, like our clothes and my clarinet.” Wirt was more than happy to play along, his heart shuddering with a singular ache at the thought of suitcases. Packing. Leaving.

Dipper nodded. “Gotta have the clarinet, man. I love watching you play.” It was another thing he wasn’t going to be able to see, another thing to miss.

“Yeah. Can’t possibly deprive you of that. How’s your school’s orchestra and marching band? Think there’d still be room if I enrolled tomorrow?”

“We could always use a good clarinet player.” And school wouldn’t be so lonely with him there. But it was impossible, and pretending it wasn’t was starting to hurt. Dipper shifted, settling atop his boyfriend and nuzzling his neck. “I love you, Wirt.”

_I love you, too._ Wirt bit his lip and squeezed him tight, taking his turn to hide his face in his shoulder as his breath left him on a shaky exhale. He still couldn’t say it. Dipper couldn’t leave without him saying it back. He couldn’t let that happen, not when his heart was so full of him. “Dipper…” His voice was tight, held captive by his throat, and he could only rub his face against him as he fought the lump choking the words.

“It’s okay.” Dipper lifted his head, nudging his nose against Wirt until he could claim his lips. “Show me this way.”

Nodding, Wirt relaxed against him, sinking into the kiss. One hand cupped the back of Dipper’s neck, the other clung to his shirt as he let whatever feelings he had for him, strong and all-encompassing feelings, spill out between them. For a flicker of a moment, all that mattered was the two of them, tucked away from time in the folds of their blanket fort, their last night merely one of many, and goodbyes wouldn’t have to be given. The familiar sensation of Dipper’s lips on his though, the taste of him on his tongue, sweet and warm like summer should be, reminded him that what had been so simple to reach out for this past month would be out of his grasp soon enough. He wouldn’t be able to show him this way once they were apart, he would only have his words to rely on, poetic and not.

But he could show him now. He could show him up until the very last second before they were separated at the airport gate. Wirt kneaded his neck as their breathing became labored, their kiss splitting into smaller, slower ones, each brush bursting with devotion.

With a smile, Dipper rolled them both so they were in the middle of the fort. They took up as much space as possible and with Wirt on top of him, he could cup his cheeks and rub their noses together to watch it scrunch. He wanted the words, ached to hear them, but he could wait. He would wait as long as Wirt needed.

Wirt couldn’t help the small laugh that trickled out as he propped himself up over him, their legs and stomachs still pressed flush together. Cheeks nestled between his palms, his smile was nothing but adoring, gaze filled with him. He wrinkled his nose purposefully, amused by his boyfriend’s attempts to get it to happen.

“Dipper! Wirt! You guys won’t believe all the rocks we found!” Greg called out, the sound of his hurried footsteps through the grass reaching them in the fort. “What’re you guys doing in there? It’s not bedtime yet. We’ve got tons more camping things to do!”

“We’re staking our claim, Greg,” Wirt answered, nudging his nose to Dipper’s once more.

“What?”

Dipper laughed, letting his hands play through Wirt’s hair before they fell. “It’s our fort, Greg. We’ve claimed all the space.”

“Oh.” There was a beat before Greg realized what that meant and joined them inside. “Hey, you can’t do that! Me and Mabel and Jason Funderburker are supposed to sleep here, too!”

Dipper grinned at his boyfriend. “I think they can sleep outside. What do you think?”

“Definitely sleep outside.”

“You guys are the ones who should sleep outside.” Greg climbed onto Wirt’s back. “Or me and Mabel will just make you into our mattresses.”

“Uh-oh, Dipper, I’m not sure we thought this through,” Wirt snickered.

“We should be okay. I mean, he’s small. We’ll just overpower him.”

There were more footsteps outside and then Mabel was peering in. “What’s the hold up?”

“Uh-oh.”

“Mabel! Wirt and Dipper took over the fort! They’re a mutiny!” Greg declared, sprawling more completely over his brother, and Dipper just by virtue of both brothers being on top of him.

“Technically we’re higher ranks than you, Greg, so we’re not the ones mutinying,” Wirt grunted, the additional weight throwing him off a bit.

“As general, I’m calling this a mutiny.” Mabel crawled in. “As punishment, dog pile on Dipper!” She scooped Greg up and flopped mercilessly on Wirt.

Her twin groaned. “Oh my god, why.”

Wirt winced, smile apologetic as he attempted to keep his weight - and that of Mabel and Greg - from crushing him. “Sorry,” he wheezed.

“I’m not,” Mabel giggled.

“Because you’re evil,” Dipper accused, laughter breathless.

“You’re the evil ones for trying to take our fort all for yourselves!” Greg fired back, grinning as he wriggled in Mabel’s grasp so he could poke Wirt in the side. “Your punishment fits the crime.”

Wirt squirmed, his own huffy giggles smothered by his own hand before he swatted at Greg’s. “Can we appeal for a different punishment?”

“Hm… what do you think, General Mabel?”

“I don’t know. I’m awfully comfortable. Hmm...” She snapped her fingers. “I think I know.” She winked at her miniature partner in crime and rolled off. Before Wirt could roll over, she deftly tickled her twin’s side and had him squeaking.

“ _Mabel_!”

“Uh-oh.” Wirt could feel him squirming beneath him and started to wriggle off when Greg settled back on top of him to inflict the same punishment on him. “No, Greg, no-!” he yelped when his younger brother’s fingers found his sides. “I- I have to get off him.”

“Surrender the fort first!” Greg demanded.

“Never!”

Dipper was ready to surrender, unable to wriggle away with Wirt and Greg atop him. Had Wirt stayed, he would’ve rolled them and made a break for it. But he couldn’t do that with Greg, too, so his sounds turned into mortifying giggles and he could only suffer. As much as he wanted to surrender, he couldn’t get the words out.

Finally, his twin stopped and grinned widely at him. He panted, trying to hide more thoroughly beneath his boyfriend. “Oh my god. Not cool.”

“Are we sharing the fort or not, bro-bro?”

Greg followed Mabel's lead, giving Wirt a moment to catch his breath, too. He took advantage of the opportunity though and pushed up to his hands and knees, having no problem with bucking his little brother off him so he could sit up. Sweater thoroughly rumpled, Wirt smoothed it out with a warning look fired at Greg as he giggled.

“We might have no choice, I'm not sure Dipper can breathe,” Wirt relented, taking in his boyfriend's flushed cheeks as he wriggled off him.

“I can- I can totally breathe.” Barely.

Mabel wiggled her fingers dangerously, laughing when her brother sat up and scooted away. “I think it's safe to say that Greg and I won this battle,” she proclaimed.

“I'm in physical pain.”

“Definitely won.”

“We are the champions!” Greg crowed, throwing both hands in the air as Wirt rolled his eyes and playfully nudged him over so the boy fell sideways.

Satisfied with that, Wirt slid over to his boyfriend and bumped their shoulders together. “Yeah, well, you guys exploited an unfair weakness.”

“I think I'm dying.”

“You are not.” Mabel punched his shoulder playfully.

He leaned against Wirt, huffing. “So says my murderer.”

“Almost-murderer. You’re not dead yet.” Wirt wrapped his arm around his waist, letting him use him for support and kissed the side of his head.

“Yet,” he repeated.

Mabel looked around, admiring the fort. “This is a trillion times better then getting the tent out of the garage would be.”

“Yeah, it did turn out pretty nice, huh?” Wirt rubbed Dipper’s side as he took in the inside of their fort as well. “Think we make a good team, boyfriend.”

“You can become pillow architects! Masters of blanket design!” Greg laughed, crawling over to them and flopped against Mabel.

She hugged him without hesitation. “There’s that show about designing fancy treehouses. You guys could have a show about building fancy blanket forts.”

“I use my talents for family, thanks.” Dipper tipped his head onto Wirt’s shoulder, content. “I think the only thing we forgot was a lightsource, but we can grab flashlights.”

“Or just use the fire.” His twin gasped. “Speaking of which, we found fabulous rocks!”

The fabulous rocks helped ring and start an equally fabulous fire, the four of them continuing to feed it even after Amy and Jonathan had retired for the night. Between s’mores and Greg or Dipper losing marshmallows entirely to the flames, they eventually ran out of the fluffy treat. Mabel was the first to notice and she swiftly poked her brother.

“We’re out of marshmallows.”

“Okay.”

“Dipper! How am I supposed to finish my s’more without marshmallows?”

“Very carefully.”

“Dipper!”

Wirt examined the bag with hope that maybe Mabel had been mistaken, but it was true. The bag was empty. He hummed to himself, lips pursing as he looked to his own unfinished s’more, graham cracker and chocolate sitting ready on his thigh. “We might have more inside,” he piped up. “Mom usually thinks ahead for things like this.” Not to mention she was a marshmallow fiend.

“Dipper, go check!”

“Why me?”

“Because your adorable boyfriend and equally adorable sister really want to continue making s’mores,” she explained, reaching out to poke his cheeks with sticky fingers, “and because you dropped at least a third of them into the fire because you’re bad at cooking things.”

“Oh my god.”

“She has a point. You kinda did.” Wirt smiled sheepishly, then leaned against him, letting his head rest on his shoulder as he nuzzled him. “It wouldn’t take that long to check. Please?”

“Greg lost probably as many as I did,” Dipper pointed out, but brushed a kiss to the top of Wirt’s head. “But, yeah, I’ll go look.”

“Woo!” his twin cheered.

“I’ll go with you, Dipper!” Greg volunteered, scrambling to his feet. “It can be our special secret marshmallow mission!”

Wirt grinned and pressed his lips to Dipper’s cheek before his little brother started tugging on his arm. “Good luck. General Mabel and I will hold the fort.”

“If we don’t make it back alive, tell everyone how awesome I was.”

“You want us to lie?” Mabel teased and he pushed her playfully before getting to his feet. Greg was swung up to his shoulders. His weight had become familiar over the past month, and he was just as upset as leaving him behind as he was at leaving Wirt. He wanted them both in his life as much as possible.

He carried him inside, bouncing a little to make him laugh, and deposited him right onto the counter once they’d successfully snuck into the kitchen. “I’m thinking they’ll be in the pantry. What do you think?”

“Yeah!” Greg grinned, swinging his legs back and forth. “On the shelf with the peanut butter.”

“Alright.” Dipper twisted his hat, striding to the pantry to dig through it for the bag. “Are you gonna have more s’mores with Mabel and Wirt?”

“Dipper, have you ever known me to say no to something like more s’mores?” Greg placed his hands on his hips as he shook his head. “Something is very wrong if I say no to some more s’mores.”

“Very true. You guys both have the craziest sweet tooth.” He found the marshmallows next to the peanut butter as expected. Also expected was that the bag was open. “And you definitely got that from your mom.”

“Wirt’s is worse than mine,” Greg giggled, reaching for Dipper and the bag with a grabby motion. “So’s Mom’s.”

“That’s debatable.” Dipper scooped him off the counter and just held tight, hugging him close. “I’ll have to send you some candy in secret. What do you think?”

The marshmallows were forgotten in lieu of hugging Dipper back, arms going around his neck as he squeezed. “I think I’d like it more if we could get the candy together,” he told him honestly. “In person.”

“Me too.” He nuzzled Greg’s hair, taking his hat off and setting it onto the counter when the bill bumped his head. “I’m really gonna miss you, shortstop.”

“I’m gonna miss you, too.” The boy’s breathing got a little shaky and he sniffed hard to keep from letting too much sadness seep into his voice. “I wish it could stay summer forever. I don’t want you and Mabel to go.”

“I know. I don’t want to go, either, and I know she doesn’t. But it’ll be okay. School’ll be over before you know it.”

“But it hasn’t even started yet,” Greg protested, rubbing his cheek against Dipper’s, pulling back enough to look him in the eye. “It’s gonna be forever ‘til we can see you again.”

“No, it won’t. We showed you guys how to use Skype on your mom’s computer, so we’ll be able to see each other that way. And we’ll talk on the phone, and... and I don’t know. Maybe we’ll see you guys before summer.” He rubbed the boy’s back “We don’t know what’s gonna happen yet.”

“I’ll save up all my money so I can buy a plane ticket and visit you as soon as possible.” The determination shining on his face crumbled at the realization that they would have to take planes to see one another. “If I do that, would you let me stay with you? Even if it’s before summer?”

“You bet I will, little brother.” Dipper hopped onto the counter, keeping Greg in his lap. Their siblings could wait for their marshmallows. Knowing them, they were likely crying all over each other anyway. “You can stay with me whenever you want. We’re family.”

“You can stay with us, too. If you get sad and miss us too much or just because you want to.” Greg nestled against him. “And if you’re lonely, just remember we miss you a whole bunch and wish you were with us.”

“I will. I promise.” He was likely going to be remembering that a lot. “And if that bratty kid - Aaron or whatever his name was - messes with you, let me know. I’ll fly over here and kick his butt.”

That got a small giggle out of Greg. “It’s not Aaron. It’s Andy McAllen,” he corrected. “And… yeah, he messes with me, but it’s… it’s not always that bad.”

“Greg...” Dipper sighed. “It doesn’t have to be that bad to hurt. So when he bugs you, tell me. I know sometimes it’s hard to talk about it and it’s not something you want to talk about, but I get it. I really do, so talk to me. Even if I’m far away, I’ll listen.”

Greg shook his head. “It’s easier to pretend nothing’s wrong,” he told him, gaze averting. “And I don’t want to make anybody worry. I can handle it.”

“You know me thinking I could handle everything by myself and pretending nothing was wrong is why I made Wirt cry,” Dipper murmured after a moment.

Another beat of silence followed before Greg mumbled, “Oh.” His fingers curled in Dipper’s shirt as he held onto him, cheek resting against his chest as he considered that. “I don’t want to make him cry, too, but… but I don’t like to talk about it, Dipper. It makes me feel bad and I don’t want to feel bad.”

“I know, shortstop. Trust me, I know.” Dipper debated with himself quietly, looking down at the boy. Did he want to share this? No. Should he? Yeah, probably. “Do you want to know one of the main reasons why I used to get bullied?”

“Um…” Greg sniffled, blinking up at him curiously. “Because they were all jealous of how cool you are and your nice hair?”

He snorted. “No.” The humor faded and he fidgeted a little. “It’s... This is gonna look a little weird because Gideon... messed it up some when I was in the basement. But, uh, I’ve got this birthmark, and, well...” He sighed and pushed back his bangs.

Greg’s eyes lit up at the discovery, but other than that he didn’t seem all that surprised. “Oh wow, that’s your birthmark? It’s really cool. Oh! It looks kinda like a… like a constellation!” He smiled to himself, pleased by being able to recognize the shape, but it faded quickly as he remembered just how they got to this point. “People bullied you because of it? How come?”

“I... I don't know, Greg. Because it's weird and different, and so was I. So _am_ I.” His bangs fell, covering up the scarred birthmark. He stroked Greg's hair, heart swelling. He loved him as much as he did Wirt. “It was really bad for a long time, and I was too afraid to talk about it. I always thought if I ignored it, it would just go away. It doesn't work like that, okay?”

“Okay,” he replied softly, gaze falling from his bangs to find his eyes. “Is that why you get scared when you don’t have your hat? Because people might see it?”

“Yeah. Nobody knows it's there anymore. Just us Mystery Best Friends.” He shrugged. “And Wendy, but she found out a couple years ago.”

“Whoa. Your parents don’t even know?” he gasped, awed by his honorary second big brother’s ability to hide it.

He laughed. “Okay, they know too.” He poked his thumb to his own forehead. “My mom's the one who nicknamed me Dipper, and the birthmark's why. It is a constellation, the dippers.” Dipper sought his hat, but settled it onto Greg's head instead of his own. “Even though people used to make fun of me for it, I still like my nickname more than my real name. I still like my birthmark. It's just... a secret now. Because I never talked to anyone about it.” Because when he'd tried, his fears had been dismissed. He wouldn't do that to Greg. “So I want you to promise you'll talk to me, okay? Even if it hurts. Be braver than the bullies make you feel.”

Greg toyed with the bill of Dipper's hat, then pushed it back so he could see him still. “So... it's braver to talk about it than ignore it? And it would be like our secret if I did?” Lips pursed, Greg twisted his fingers in his shirt as he awaited his confirmation or dismissal.

“If that's what you want, I promise it would be our secret, Greg.” Dipper smiled, bouncing him lightly. “And it's much braver to talk about it. That's a true rock fact.”

“Okay.” The bounce got him to smile back and he gave Dipper's shoulder a pat. “I think you're brave though, even if you didn't talk to anyone about it. You can talk to me, too. If you ever need to.”

“Thanks, Greg. Come on.” He wiggled off the counter, giving Greg another squeeze before swinging him to his shoulders and offering the bag of marshmallows. “Let's make s'mores and have the best camping night ever.”

Greg hugged the top of his head, holding tight to the marshmallows. “It's already the best camping night ever 'cause you and me are here,” he laughed, then pointed out of the kitchen. “Lead the charge, admiral!”

“You got it, corporal.” Dipper carried him out the door, letting him keep the hat on. He didn’t need it, not camped out beneath the stars with the three most important people in his life.

 

\----

 

They couldn't go past security with them, but nonetheless Jonathan parked the van instead of pulling up to the curb so the Palmer-Whelan family in its entirety could accompany the twins inside. As soon as they entered the terminal, Wirt felt his chest tighten, the departure suddenly becoming more tangible than it had during the drive to Boston. Stomach churning, he held fast to Dipper's free hand even though it was probably clammy and shaking, but the grip that met his assured him that he didn't mind, both only willing to break the connection when Dipper had to check his bag. The four of them watched as it vanished alongside Mabel's via the conveyor belt, hearts varying degrees of heavy. This was it.

They’d managed to keep a conversation running in the car. Rehashing what they’d done over their month together, plans of what they could do the following summer. But now there was silence. Mabel quietly lifting Greg, holding him tight and rocking. Dipper tried to think of something to say, but words stuck in his throat.

He turned towards Wirt, gazing up at him. His lower lip quivered, unformed words trying to spill out. All he wanted to say was that he didn't want to leave. He didn't want to get on that plane. Heart racing, he threw his arms around his boyfriend's neck and held on, burying his face in his neck.

“Hey, it's-” Wirt's reassurances died as the words broke in his throat, arms locked around Dipper's waist as he clung to him.

“We'll see each other soon.” Greg took over the task of being the voice of optimism. “It's not goodbye forever, it's... it's see you later. We'll see you later.”

It felt like goodbye forever. All their hopeful plans of maybes and possibilities seemed like pitiful attempts to make the separation more bearable. Saying goodbye in Gravity Falls had been bad enough, but this was torturous. Wirt squeezed Dipper, breath hitching as he tried to push the dark clouds of his thoughts away. Like in Gravity Falls, their last moments together for an insurmountable amount of time couldn't be colored in shades of sadness.

“Greg's right,” he choked out. “It'll be okay. We can do this.”

“Right,” Mabel agreed. “We'll have school to distract us. Time's gonna fly. I just know it. And we'll still talk all the time. We'll be a-okay.”

Dipper couldn't work up the optimism he'd been clinging to, holding his boyfriend physically close for the last time for months. He shifted his hat to the side, resting their brows together. “I love you,” he murmured. “Like, so much.”

Wirt's breath caught, eyes growing damp so he squeezed them shut as he rubbed his forehead to Dipper's. “I know,” he exhaled shakily. “I know you do.”

His arms eased up on their desperate hold, pulling back just enough to press their lips together in a firm, lingering kiss. It wasn't a deep, seeking one with tongues tangling as mouths explored, they'd shared several of those after their siblings had fallen asleep the night before and again this morning, but it was still just as full - full of love, cherishing one another. It was what they could share standing on the edge of their summer, in the middle of the airport steps away from security.

“We're gonna be fine,” Wirt murmured as it ended. “I'm your shield and you're mine, neither of us are going to let something silly like not being able to see each other keep us from being together and happy, yeah?”

“Y-yeah.” He nodded, their noses brushing. “Anytime you need me, call me, text me - whatever. I’ll always be there for you. And for Greg.”

“Me too,” his twin agreed. “We’ll both always be there for you guys.”

“Same here.” Wirt lifted his hand to stroke his boyfriend's cheek. “And I- I fully expect a text when you land and call when you're settled, no matter how late it is. I'm sure neither of us will be able to sleep until we've heard from you anyway.”

“Yeah. You have to call. And not just today, but whenever you want,” Greg pressed.

“I’ll absolutely call.” Dipper reached up to catch his hand, keeping it to his face for an extra moment. Just to feel it there and remember it. He took a careful step back and traded with his twin, gathering Greg close while Mabel threw her arms around Wirt and rocked them both.

“I’m gonna miss you so much!”

“I'm gonna miss you, too.” Wirt hugged her tightly, his fellow sweater-wearing, practically sister just as dear to him. “Thank you so much for this month, really. Thank you,” he breathed, trying not to tremble as he let them be rocked. “You're incredible, Mabel.”

“You're welcome, sweetie. He needed it, and so did you.” She drew back enough to smile at him. “So did me and Greg.”

Wirt managed a small smile back, grateful that he could still see Mabel’s through the tears that threatened to fill his eyes. “Mystery Best Friends gotta stick together,” he huffed, then grabbed her arms to give them a squeeze. “If you ever need anything, or if there’s anything Greg and I can help you with, don’t hesitate to reach out for us, okay?”

“Okay. We will.” She couldn't help but hug him again, lifting to her toes to rub their cheeks together. “It's okay if you cry. Dipper would tell you not to because he doesn't like you to be sad, but it's okay. We're all sad.” Her voice broke, cheeks growing damp. “I love you, Wirt. You're the best honorary big brother ever.”

“Mabel…” Biting back a whimper, blinking rapidly as his heart quivered, he nuzzled back as he savored the hug for a beat longer. When he pulled back it was to kiss her cheek. “You’re the best honorary sister ever. Little and big,” he choked out, still refusing to let himself cry even though the sight of Mabel’s tears made it incredibly hard not to give in, and nodded in Greg’s direction, Dipper’s too by association.

“Oh, man, Mabel, don't do that.”

“I'm trying not to.” Sighing, Dipper stepped closer to wrap her into a hug, keeping Greg close. Mabel tugged Wirt into it. “It's gonna be okay, boys. I promise.”

“Say it’s a rock fact, Wirt,” Greg demanded of his brother, pressing against Dipper as his own lip quivered.

Wirt swallowed. “Why don’t you want to say it?”

“Because mine aren’t always one hundred percent true and yours are and this needs to be a one hundred percent fact,” he insisted.

He couldn’t argue with that. “Okay. It’s a rock fact. It’s going to be okay, and that’s a rock fact.”

Dipper nodded. “One hundred percent true.”

The four of them stayed wrapped around one another for a long minute, and it was only a nudge from Mabel that got Dipper moving. Private plane or not, they were keeping the pilot waiting. Greg was given a last squeeze from each twin before he was surrendered to Wirt's embrace. Dipper lifted to his toes to steal one final kiss from his boyfriend, letting it linger since it was it for the summer.

The twins stepped back in unison, hands reaching for the other's. “We'll see you.”

“As soon as possible,” Mabel added, wiping her eyes.

“Have-” Wirt’s voice cracked, his arms tightening around Greg as his little brother started petting his shoulder to reassure him. “Have a safe flight. We’ll- we’ll stay until you go through security.” They’d stay until they couldn’t see them anymore.

“Yeah. I...”

“We'll call you.” Mabel tugged at her twin, lifting her hand in a wave. “See you later, guys!”

Dipper could only nod, letting himself be pulled away. There was no other choice. They had to go, but it would be alright. It wasn't like the last time they'd parted, with injuries still healing and mental wounds in hiding. He was stronger than he'd been.

Their relationship was stronger than it had been. Not only between him and Wirt, but between the four of them. Mystery Best Friends were a solid team, a family, whether side by side or a continent apart.

Dipper waved, gaze lingering on the brothers for another moment before he turned and went through the private security with his twin.

It was on the tip of his tongue, a desperate plea for him to wait, as the image of the two of them disappearing through the trees flickered in Wirt’s memory. There was no Unknown here, no mysterious way home, and they still had each other. This wasn’t goodbye for good. It might’ve been the end of their summer, but it absolutely wasn’t the end of the Mystery Best Friends. It wasn’t the end of Dipper and Wirt. They were only just beginning, there was still so much to learn about one another, to do together, to say.

_I love you._

It trembled in his throat, trapped and terrified to spill out, but it needed to be said. It needed to be heard. How could he let his boyfriend go across the country without having heard that he loved him back? It didn’t matter that he knew, that wasn’t the same. Sure, actions spoke louder than words, but one couldn’t deny the power that words held. It was the power behind the words “I love you” that kept them cowering inside him though, the fear that he couldn’t handle what would come once he gave them to Dipper. His feelings laid bare, at the mercy of another.

After all this talk about trying to get Dipper to trust him, could it be that Wirt couldn’t entirely trust him back? Wirt squeezed Greg, shoulders tensing as he watched the distance grow, the moment almost passed, slipping through his fingers as he stood stock still while his mind raced. No. No, of course he trusted him. He loved him, he trusted him with his emotions, with all he felt for him. He did, heart hammering at the slightest implication that he didn’t.

“Dipper!” His shout startled both himself and Greg, panic forcing his name from his lips once his boyfriend reclaimed his carry-on and allowed to continue on into the rest of the airport, out of sight for who knew how long. With a hasty apology to his brother, Wirt set him down and hurried over to the stanchions that roped off security, as close as he could get. “Dipper, wait!”

Dipper pushed his bag at Mabel, getting as close as he could, trapped on the opposite side. “Wirt? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m- I’m fine, I…” Wirt swallowed, face flushing at the attention he’d garnered from other airport patrons and the security guards themselves, relieved when most decided to ignore his outcry. Of course, now pinned by Dipper’s gaze, the words that ached to be known floundered, hid themselves within more familiar lines of poetry, accessible for him and just as full of meaning as anything else he could possibly say in this moment. He may not have been able to give him those three words specifically, but he could give him something else.

“Remember the night I went for a walk after you did? I mean, I guess it was technically morning, but- wait, no that doesn’t matter that’s not the point.” Wirt shook his head, eyes squeezed shut as he forced his mind to stay on track. “A-anyway, I- I went over the wall and I was thinking of you while I sat by the lake and I came up with this poem, see. I didn’t write it down because at the time I thought you might not like it, and to be honest I still don’t really know how you’d feel about it, but… but I think… I think you should hear it. I want you to hear it.”

There was a tremor in his voice, shoes scuffed against the tile floor while his hands wrung themselves together, but Wirt met his gaze evenly, taking in the boy he loved as he allowed everything he felt for him well up and the memory of the words he’d conjured along it. “Seven,” he started shakily. “And each one a point that I adore, the sweetness of your soul incapable of being contained within you it had to leave an imprint on your skin.

“One for the noble fir you are, standing tall, unshakeable, branches offered to support and shield, oh strong pine of mine. Two is your curiosity, questioning everything, seeking answers, a dull life impossible by your side.” As he spoke, the words still as fresh as they’d been that night, his certainty grew, his conviction. His love. “Three and four for generosity and devotion, your giving nature all encompassing. Five for drive, so stubborn and firm, never let it die. Six for beauty beyond belief, and seven bundles it all into a single entity I call you. The final point I so adore, pointing north towards Polaris to guide me home.” Wirt remembered to be self-conscious when the last word faded in the air between them. “That’s… that’s how I feel about you and I… I wanted you to know before you go.”

It wasn’t “I love you,” but it still moved Dipper to the core. He removed his hat, rubbing his brow as he stared with wide eyes at his poetic pilgrim. The scarred mark had once been special to him, had once been something he’d been proud to have. Now, the sweet words ringing in his ears, it felt special again. He felt special. He felt loved.

And even though it meant he would have to go through security again, he couldn’t stay away with his heart full and tears pricking his eyes. After a quick glance at security to make sure they weren’t looking his way, he ducked beneath the thin barriers and bolted for him. The moment they could, his arms stole around his neck. “I love you, too. I love you, Wirt.” He lifted to his toes, rubbing his forehead to Wirt’s. “You have to write that down for me, okay? Send it to me.”

“I will. Yeah, okay.” Wirt managed a small nod, keeping their brows pressed together while his arms banded tight around his waist. “I don’t ever want you to forget that, so I will. And if you ever need reminding, you can read it and know just what I see when I think of you, Dipper.” He broke the connection to press his lips firmly against his forehead. “I’ll miss you.”

His breath caught, fingers tightening on the bill of his hat and curling into his sweater. “I’ll miss you too.” Dipper tilted his head back, lips seeking Wirt’s. “One more,” was the soft request.

“Mm-mm.” Wirt shook his head, their lips close enough to brush as he replied, “Two. Two's better,” then sank into the first, soft and sweet to soothe the ache separation sought to inflict on them both.

The second went deeper. Soothing further, it also filled them with one another. It reflected their feelings, whether said aloud or not. It was ended reluctantly, Dipper cupping Wirt's cheeks, fingertips stroking gently. “I love you. Maybe we'll figure out a way to see each other before summer. Anything's possible if you set your mind to it, right?”

Wirt pressed his lips together, savoring the memory of Dipper’s on them while his hands lifted to hold onto his boyfriend’s wrists, thumbs caressing over his pulse point. He nodded, the tears that had been gathering in his eyes finally spilling over. “Yeah. Absolutely,” he answered, pushing through the break in his voice. “Maybe- maybe we can spend some of winter break together or- or see if our spring breaks match up. We’ll think of something.”

“Yeah.” He didn't tell him not to cry, hands leaving his cheeks to lace their fingers. His lips brushed beneath his eyes. “My poetic pilgrim. I really have to go now.”

“I know.” Nodding again, quicker this time, Wirt exhaled and squeezed his hands. “It’s okay. We’re okay. Go and- and have a great year for me, and I’ll do the same, okay? I mean, even if we’re apart this is still our first year together. The first year of us. So we have to make it good.” His smile came easier through his tears than he thought it would. He brought one of Dipper’s hands to his lips and kissed the back of it, then let it go.

“And on our anniversary, we'll go back to the oasis.” Dipper mimicked him with the other hand, taking a step back. “Look out for Greg, and be safe in Lakeville, city of lakes.”

He checked to make sure security still wasn't paying him any mind, then ducked back beneath the barriers to return to his twin. He tossed a mischievous grin and a wink over his shoulder. “See you later, pilgrim.”

Wirt couldn’t help his own breathless laugh, shaking his head at his boyfriend’s luck. Able to stem the tears for the time being, he purposefully wrinkled his nose for him in return. “Yeah, and you stay out of trouble, boyfriend o’ mine.” He felt Greg come up beside him and reached for his hand. “Bye, Dipper.”

“Bye, Dipper! Bye, Mabel!” Greg called out after him, waving eagerly with his free hand. “See you soon! Sooner is better than later!”

“You bet it is, shortstop.” Dipper waved back. “Bye, Greg. Bye, Wirt.”

Once Dipper had his bag back, Mabel blew them each a kiss. “Bye for now, boys!”

Unable to linger any longer, late for the flight and in bolstered spirits, the twins flashed matching grins before running off.

The brothers stayed by the security for a minute longer, watching what they could see of the airport long after Dipper and Mabel had disappeared from sight. They squeezed each other’s hands, though neither looked away until a croak caught Greg’s attention. He glanced back over his shoulder at their lucky frog, held safe in his dad’s arms while they’d all exchanged goodbyes, their parents waiting patiently for them to be ready for the drive back home. His gaze traveled up to Wirt’s face, cringing a little as he saw that his smile had given way to crying soundlessly.

“Don’t you worry, Wirt. They’re not leaving forever. We’ll see them again soon, just like I said. We can mark the days on our calendar again until next summer.” Greg tugged on his arm to catch his attention.

Wirt took a moment to breathe, composing himself before nodding, then stooped down to scoop Greg up into his arms. “You bet we can. And you know what else we can do? We can write them letters and send them packages and record things for them and all sorts of other things.”

“Can we do all that today?” he asked, perking up as ideas started to fill his head.

“Sure, Greg. We can start today. Why not?” Without looking back to the terminals, there was little point to it now, Wirt turned and carried Greg over to their parents and frog while the boy babbled on about even more things they could do and talk about with the twins in lieu of actually being with them.

“It’ll be like an adventure! A challenging Mystery Best Friends adventure! There’s no stopping us, right Wirt?”

“Right, Greg.” Compared to everything else they’d been through, they could certainly handle this. No problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Separations are so hard to write, even if we have more parts to their story to write that will make this bearable. Anyway, thank you everyone for following this story! We appreciate your understanding and patience through our breaks and we hope you continue to enjoy what we have in store! Next up is our first side story which will have updates on Mondays and Fridays just like usual, and then we'll move onto part four after that! 
> 
> Also, let's have a quick shout out to Syl because it's her birthday! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SYL!!! :D YOU'RE THE BEST WRITING PARTNER AND FRIEND I COULD EVER ASK FOR <3 
> 
> Alright, everyone, see you in the epilogue and in part four!


	19. Epilogue

They’d flown into Oregon, picked up by their grunkles so they could gather Waddles and find out how the town had fared without them. They were told in no uncertain terms that they were no longer allowed to spend an entire summer month away from Gravity Falls ever again. It was good to know that they’d been missed, though the twins were already missing those they’d left behind in Massachusetts. The quiet that had hung over them on the plane ride continued in the backseat of the old station wagon, gazes out their respective windows, hands clasped in silent support of the other.

Wirt and Greg were called, neither boy asleep despite the late hour, upon reaching the Shack, their conversation cut off when the Pines parents arrived to take them home. Dipper turned down the offer to drive, sitting in the backseat with his sister. As night fell, stars fading in brightness the further south they went, his face was lit with the glow of his phone until Wirt’s messages were littered with typos and his need for sleep became clear.

_Go to bed, okay? We’ll talk tomorrow. I love you. <3_

It was the last message between them for a while, long enough for them to arrive in Piedmont. Dipper stared at their two-story house as they pulled up to it, torn oddly between distaste and comfort. It was the same way he felt at the end of every summer, though it seemed to be heightened now as he yearned for a bedroom with horrible orange carpet and a pointless wall of wood panelling, warm arms and soft kisses.

A poem written about the embarrassing mark on his forehead.

Sighing quietly, Dipper lifted a hand and rubbed beneath his bangs. “Come on, honey. These bags aren’t going to get themselves inside!” his mother chirped. “I know you must be tired after that flight. And the drive! Oh, and we can’t forget the timezone difference. You must both be exhausted.”

The twins exchanged glances, both more homesick than sleepy. But they climbed out of the car anyway, going around to the back to gather their things. Well, Dipper gathered more than Mabel did as she had her sleeping pig bundled in her arms.

“Next time we go to Massachusetts, we’re taking Waddles. He missed me.”

Dipper laughed, though the sound was a little rusty. “Yeah, right. You missed him more than he did you. As long as he gets fed, he’s happy.”

“That is so not true, and you know it.” Her nose lifted and she spun away to head inside.

“Dipper, don’t tease your sister,” was the mild reprimand from their father.

“I’m just-” He bit his lip, summer fading as he turned towards the house to carry bags inside. “Okay.”

Though it hadn’t buzzed in his pocket, he retrieved his phone once everything was brought inside and put away - his mother insisting that they not make messes of their bedrooms their first night home.

Dipper didn’t feel at home, and knew he wouldn’t for a few days at least. But he didn’t fight her, unpacking properly and staring far too long at a closet devoid of collared shirts and sweaters with tears pricking his eyes.

He laid on his bed - too big, too empty - and scrolled through the conversation of text messages. The month long gap between them had his lips quirking in a small smile. While unbearably grateful for the time spent with his boyfriend, solidifying their feelings for one another and overcoming some of Dipper’s deepest insecurities, he wished he could still be there.

He wished for a time device to go back to the start and relive every second. If he had a Time Wish to use, it would be to push their houses closer together so they’d never have to part again. For a moment, he toyed with the idea of challenging Mabel to Globnar. Either way, they would both come out as winners.

Too bad the Time Baby would likely throw a tantrum.

A knock had him lifting his head, attention turning from his phone to the door as it cracked open. “Mabel?”

She bit her lip as he tended to do, pushing her hair back. It was damp from her shower, her unpacking having gone much faster than Dipper’s. “I was, um... I was getting ready for bed, and...”

“It’s too big.”

She nodded, rubbing her arm, and he patted the bed. She opened wider to let Waddles in, picking the pig up to set him on the mattress before unnecessarily climbing over her twin. “Mabel!”

She giggled, but the sound faded when she flopped onto her side. “You're uglier than Greg.”

“Get out.”

“No, it's so comfy, Dipper!” She grinned when he rolled his eyes. “Are you going to shower? It's been a while, and if you don't I'm absolutely telling Wirt you spent your first night at home being gross and smelly.”

“Get out,” he repeated, this time tugging on her hair, both of them laughing.

She scooted closer to him, so he set the phone aside and wrapped an arm around her so she could comfortably pillow her head on his shoulder. “We’re not going to wait until summer, are we?”

“I think once we get our school schedules, we can figure out where we have chunks of time off together. Maybe winter break like Wirt said or spring break.”

“Both.”

He nodded without hesitation. “You know it.”

The twins stayed cuddled close, missing the people of Lakeville in their own ways until Mabel drifted off, the hour late in Piedmont. Since it was nearing four back in Massachusetts, he could understand how his early to bed, early to rise sister was exhausted.

He eased away from her, the arm she’d trapped tingling uncomfortably, and readied himself for bed. Fast shower, a quick change into actual pajamas since his sister was sharing his bed for the night, and he was good to go. He hooked his pine tree cap on his bedpost, sighing as he traced the blue symbol with his index finger. It was his last tie to summer now and even that would soon be replaced by the ballcap bearing his high school’s mascot. It was really over and now months of waiting - whether they managed to see each other before summer or not - would now begin.

Dipper really wasn’t sure how he’d manage it, loneliness wrapping itself around him even as he climbed into bed beside his twin and had to push Waddles out of his spot. He didn’t want to wait. He wanted Wirt there. He wanted Greg to come bursting in with a rock facts rock held high over his head and a frog under his arm, Mabel right on his heels. He wanted Amy smiling at him from the stove and Jonathan clapping a hand on his shoulder.

It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t have them. It wasn’t fair that he’d have to wait. He trembled, a hand lifting to his brow to rub in a nervous gesture. Nightmares loomed if he closed his eyes, he just knew it. He was miserable enough that he didn’t think he’d be able to fight them off, and his shield was in stupid Massachusetts.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed. The rattle of it on his bedside table gave him a start and he blinked at it dumbly before reaching out. The new message at the bottom of his and Wirt’s text conversation was quickly followed by a second and then a third.

_< 3_

_I fell asleep, and I’m going to fall back asleep, but..._

_< 3 <3 <3_

Dipper laughed softly, muffling it with his hand to keep from waking Mabel. So that was how he was going to give him the words without giving him the words. Dumb little heart emoticons. _I love you too,_ he sent back and fell asleep within seconds, lips curved in a slight smile.

There were no nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to give another thank you to all of you dedicated readers out there and for your patience with us as we worked through these last few updates with Lakeville, City of Lakes!
> 
> We'll start updating the next installment of the MBF universe on Friday - we'll try and get it up sometime in the afternoon, seeing as it's nearly ready to go - and maybe start cranking out some bits of a new AU we're working on in the upcoming weeks! Who knows~
> 
> Thanks again, everyone! <3


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